


Ten Inches Between Dimensions

by SillyBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Dimension Travel via cursed dildo, Canon Compliant, Case Fic, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Cursed objects, Dimension Travel, First Kiss, Fix-It, M/M, Miscommunication, Pagan God Dean Winchester, Pagan God Sam Winchester, Pagan Gods, Season/Series 12, Sex Toys, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/pseuds/SillyBlue
Summary: When a break-in at storage unit holding cursed objects has people turn up dead, it's up to the Winchesters try to collect all items before they can do any further harm. Dean volunteers to chase down leads for what looks to be a massive cursed dildo. Unfortunately, Dean has always disregarded one of the basic rules of hunting: don't touch cursed objects. And it seems that dildos make excellent portals into other dimensions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is canon compliant with the first half of S12, but changes some details regarding Lucifer and then disregards pretty much everything that happened after Cas killed Dagon.
> 
> For a story that features sex toys and fertility gods there's a shocking lack of sex, but there are the inevitable dick jokes because it would be unlike Dean not to have a thing or two to say on the topic of dicks. 
> 
> The story will come in three parts, all already written, so I hope to not let you wait for too long between updates.  
> If you have questions either before reading or after, feel free to leave me a comment or send me a message [on tumblr](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/)!

Dean glared.

His phone was lying on the table before him, its screen black, unlit by messages, no matter how hard Dean stared. He held his spoon in one hand, the cereal soaking up the milk in the bowl before him. There were newspapers strewn on the table, but nothing was going on. At least not anything that was their kind of deal.

He didn't look up when he heard steps approach, Sam ambling into the kitchen and going straight for the coffee machine.

"Hey," he called.

"Hmm," Dean grunted out, then he shoveled a spoonful of soggy cereal into his mouth. The sound of the coffee maker sputtering filled the silence in the kitchen.

"Want some coffee?"

"Nah," Dean said, tearing his eyes away from his phone to fold up the newspaper and put it on a stack to be dumped later. Sam set down his cup, then he folded his long legs under the table and brushed his hair out of his face.

"You're in a mood today," Sam observed and Dean lifted his eyes to glare at his brother. Sam looked like he was taking their vacation from the world potentially ending well. And while Dean was glad that Sam could catch a break – that _they_ could catch a break – he also somewhat resented him for his good mood. Dean looked back down at his phone but of course there was nothing. "You heard anything from Cas yet?" Trust Sam to zero in on the source of Dean's bad mood right away.

"Not a peep," Dean growled out. Dean finally swiped the phone off the table and shoved it into his pocket. It was only taunting him like this. "That son of a bitch could at least give a sign that he's alive." Sam took a sip of his coffee, then he looked at Dean with that damn concerned, pitying look.

"Dean, Cas is fine," Sam insisted and Dean shot him a dark glare. Sam tilted his head back slightly as if he wanted to groan, but he thought better of it, wiping his hand over his face and tucking his hair behind his ear. "Look, I get it. The last couple of times when he disappeared on us he wasn't exactly _fine_. But there's no trouble for Cas to get into now, you know? Lucifer is dead, the Brits have been chased off and with the Grace extraction we did, Kelly's baby is not going to end the world."

"Yeah, but Cas has got _cosmic consequences_ hanging over his head, in case you forgot that," Dean argued sharply and Sam closed his eyes, sighing. Dean ineffectively stabbed his cereal with a spoon, causing milk to slosh over the rim of his bowl. "This year alone he was possessed by the devil, got himself saddled with we don't know what because he made dumb choices-"

"Dean, he saved our lives," Sam interjected but Dean was on a roll.

"Then he almost got himself killed by that dick Ishim. Then Ramiel almost offed him. Then he fucked off to Heaven without telling us, stole the Colt."

"Because you didn't put it into the safe," Sam said, his voice flat, the words muttered into his coffee cup.

"And _then_ he got into the clutches of a Nephilim," Dean snapped. "If we hadn't put him into that ring of fire he'd have stopped us from extracting the Grace! Which would have potentially ended the world! And now he can't even say a simple thank you for saving his ass?"

"Dean…," Sam said, shoving his cup of coffee to the side. "We trapped him in a ring of holy fire and left him there until we knew the Nephilim situation was neutralized. Of course he is upset. Let him lick his wounds for a moment."

"He can lick his damn wounds at home!" Dean hissed, then he pulled his phone out and frowned. "Or at least answer a text!"

"You and Cas are absolutely horrible when you're arguing," Sam told him, clearly tired of this whole mess. Dean stared at him, part reproachful, part incredulous. How could Sam not feel _anything_ at this point? Not even irritation or, God forbid, guilt? "I wouldn't answer your texts either when all you do is accuse me of things."

"Yeah well, you're both ungrateful bitches," Dean grumbled. Sam rubbed his forehead with his fingers, eyes closed in exasperation, then he looked at Dean.

"Dean, just admit that you're worried about him."

"He knows that I'm worried about him, but he's still being a dick!" Dean answered, then he opened his phone, "that's it. I'm sending him another text." Sam rolled his eyes but Dean ignored him.

 **"I said I'm sorry for putting you into holy fire. Stop being a prissy dick about it. -D"** Sam leant over slightly and instantly made a disgusted noise.

"You're really going to send _that_? Do you _want_ him to ignore you longer?" Dean lifted his eyes and glared at Sam, then he exaggeratedly punched his fingers against the touch screen, hitting send. "You two really need to talk about your issues," Sam said with an exasperated sigh. Dean motioned towards the phone. He was talking! Cas was the one not answering. Sam opened his mouth to argue, looking as done with Dean as Dean was with this whole mess, but then a phone rang. Sam pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket, glancing at the screen before he shot Dean a guilty look.

"That's great, at least people call you," Dean said with a humorless smile. Sam accepted the call and put the phone on the table between him and Dean. Then he crossed his arms on the table and leant forwards a bit. There was a warm smile on his face and Dean looked at the caller ID. Mom.

"Hey Mom. You're on speaker," he said.

"Hi Sam. Dean?" her voice sounded fond, though also a bit tentative. Why was it that Dean currently had tense relationships with basically everyone? This sucked.

"Hi Mom," Dean said, then the corner of his mouth pulled up into a small, involuntary smile. "It's good to hear from you."

"I'm sorry for not calling earlier," she sighed heavily. "That spa weekend with Donna and Jody really helped me. We did a lot of talking and I was kind of conked out afterwards. But now I'm back, and no more affairs for me for a while. I've sworn off men."

"Glad to hear it," Sam said with a laugh and even Dean had to smirk.

"Yeah, I can relate," Dean said, thinking back to all the one-night stands he regretted. Though he hadn't really had the misfortune of ending up in bed with a psychotic British douche bag. Though there had been close calls. Bad judgement probably ran in the family.

"You've sworn off men, Dean?" Their mother asked, though she wasn't teasing, rather genuinely surprised.

"No, I meant I-" Dean started, but didn't know how to finish because what exactly were they talking about now.

"Is Cas still not talking to you?" Mary asked and Sam shot Dean a pointed look, which made Dean want to argue that it wasn't his fault.

"He's giving Dean the cold shoulder. But Dean's not exactly mature about the situation either," Sam said with a look in Dean's direction.

"Give him some time to cool off," Mary advised. "He'll come around. He loves you." Dean tensed instantly at that and resolutely didn't look at Sam, even though he could feel the weight of his eyes on him. They did _not_ talk about this. Anything that was said or did when one faced imminent death didn't count. Every hunter that made it through another almost deadly hunt knew that.

"Anything up, Mom?" Sam asked, deflecting the conversation before Dean had to commit to any kind of answer.

"Yes, actually, I think I've found us a case," she said, but then she added slightly more hesitatingly: "if you want?"

"Hell yeah!" Dean said at once before Sam had time to react. Mary chuckled lightly at that. "I've not had anything to hunt for a month. Just give me something to punch."

"Dean." Sam looked at him with that disapproving glare again, but Dean didn't care. A case would take his mind off the issues with Cas. All he did here was stew in his own juices, anger, worry and guilt warring for the upper hand inside his chest.

"It's not actually a case where you can punch people," Mary said and Dean groaned. "I've found one of the storages the Brits used for items they stole from the Bunker."

"Ugh, don't remind me. Just thinking about them planting bugs and going through our stuff, _stealing_ our stuff even, makes me want to kill something," Dean groused in disgust.

"Mom, if you've found he storage, then how is this a case?" Sam asked. "Do you need help transporting them or…" Mary sighed sadly.

"Unfortunately, it's not me who found the storage. Someone broke into the storage unit, took some items out and now somebody's dead."

"Damn," Sam commented roughly. "Cursed object?"

"Yes… I've retrieved the object from the police station and put it back into its curse box. But I don't know how many more items are out there and who has them. I know the police station recovered the inventory list. I'll try to get my hands on it and then we can check what's gone," Mary said.

"Sounds like a plan," Dean said, "do you need help?"

"If you can make it?" Mary sounded hopeful and Dean couldn't help the smile that appeared on his lips. "I'd rather not take this on my own and risk more people dying. Besides, I haven't seen you two in a while."

"We'll be there. Just text us the details and we can check the archive database for further information on the objects," Sam said. They agreed for Mary to check back in once she had the inventory list and then they'd meet her. Dean felt a bit lighter by the time they had agreed on a course of action.

He ignored his phone.

* * *

 

**"We're on a case with mom. Collecting junk the Brits stole. In case you come home and we're not there. Just wanted to let you know. -D"**

"So, any luck?" Dean hit send and looked up from his phone to find Sam coming into the motel room.

"Hell will freeze over before Cas texts back," Dean retorted and put his phone into his pocket, then he grabbed the back of the chair and looked down at the files on the table.

"I know we were on different levels of hell but it _was_ freezing where I was," Sam said with a teasing smile and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam sat down at the table, stretching out his legs before he grabbed a folder to compare with the list of items he and Dean could get the police to release. "But I was talking about the case."

"Right, the case," Dean said and drummed his fingers against the chair's backrest. Sam shot him a look, but then the door opened and Mary came in, still dressed in her FBI get up.

"Hello, agent!" Dean greeted her with a grin and saw his mom roll her eyes.

"Any news?"

"Yeah. I compared the list," Dean said and motioned to the pages Sam was leafing through. "We've got four items still missing." He pulled the sheets out of Sam's hands, his brother's protests ignored. "And I don't know if it's chance or if the Brits are just kinky motherfuckers. The items they got were all marked down as sex and love related."

"Well that's… interesting," Mary said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall next to the table.

"On the list of missing items are handcuffs that make you obey the one with the key, a locket that has a heavy-duty love spell on it, a mirror that shows you your soulmate and, the best one, a cursed object for – get this – _fertility rites_."

"So basically a dildo," Mary said and Dean clicked his tongue, pointing his finger at her.

"I'm totally calling dibs on that one. I've already dealt with cursed pornography once, so why not also some cursed sex toys," Dean said with a grin.

"I probably don't want to know," Mary answered with a fond roll of her eyes, while Sam levelled Dean with a less than impressed look. "Okay, do we know anything about the objects at all?" Sam patted a thick folder on the table in front of him.

"I've brought all the archival notes, sadly not yet digitalized," Sam said mournfully and Dean tuned him out. He turned slightly away and pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket when it buzzed.

**"Ok."**

"Would it hurt you to actually write something more than that?" Dean muttered under his breath but then the phone vibrated again.

 **"Don't do anything 'stupid'."** Followed by an angry faced emoji. Dean rolled his eyes but looked up from the phone when he heard Sam clear his throat. Sam had both of his eyebrows lifted and Dean looked from his brother to Mary.

"What?"

"The case, Dean?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean groaned, then he took a seat at the table. "So what do we know about that fake dick?"

* * *

 

Dean recalled Castiel's face in the flickering flames. His eyes were wide, shocked and betrayed. Dean had felt sick, a sentiment increased by the heat and the strangely minty scent of the holy fire. Why did this have to happen again? But this time Cas was less calm, there was no guilt snuffing out any anger at the Winchesters for their cowardly trap.

Dean's ears had been ringing with Castiel trying to argue with them, trying to convince them that the Nephilim was going to save them and fix everything that was broken in the world.

"Everything that I broke!" Castiel had screamed and Dean had nearly crumbled to his knees, but he and Sam had known better. Hard choice not the heart choice. Dean knew the drill. They knew that extracting the Grace and making sure that Kelly had a life and got to have her son was the only right thing to do.

The despaired screeches of Castiel's true voice had shattered the windows of the warehouse they had trapped Cas in, but the ring of holy fire held.

It held as they brought Kelly to a safe place and extracted the Grace once they assured her that this was the only way she would survive. It held as they stored the kid's Grace, swirling in a pale gold, into one of the Bunker's heavy-duty vaults. It held when they said good-bye to Kelly who had a small, hopeful smile on her lips. And it still held when they came to find Cas again.

Dean wouldn't forget the look Cas had sent him, dark and reproachful, his face bruised by Dean knocking him out with the angel warded brass knuckles. Cas had remained silent as Sam extinguished the fire and he left without a word. Dean understood why Cas initially kept his distance, he too had been disgusted with the whole ordeal even though it had been the right thing to do. But now?

He should be grateful and _happy_. Kelly got to survive, the world wasn't ending. Everything should finally be falling into place! So why the fuck weren't they okay?

* * *

 

Dean's best guess as to find the elusive cursed dildo was to check out various pawn and sex shops, so he hit those while the other followed their own leads. The archive notes from the Men of Letters came with a small description and a grainy photograph. Dean forwarded Cas a picture he had snapped of the page. It was a long shot, but maybe Cas would surprise him with his arcane knowledge of ancient, cursed sex toys.

Though maybe sex toy wasn't the right word for it. Dean was hardly an expert when it got to dildos but from the description and the scale provided in the pic Dean knew that the thing was massive. He really hoped nobody tried to use it; size aside, accidentally triggering the magic of a cursed dildo sounded… unpleasant. Dean shuddered as he got out of the latest shop on his list, where the shop assistant had sent him a very lewd smile and told him she could hook him up with something of that size. Dean had been out of there like hell hounds were on his heels.

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked for news, but there were none. Especially no answering text from Cas.

 **"Maybe the cursed dildo is stuck up your ass. That would explain why you've been such a dick recently,"** Dean typed in a fit or irritation and sent it off before he could think better of it. He was annoyed, sue him.

The only thing left to do now was to ask around the neighborhood, which was certainly going to be fun. An FBI agent going from door to door with a picture of a disappeared sex toy. Dean's phone vibrated and he pulled it out. Surprisingly, Cas had texted him back, but it was nothing but a rude emoji.

"Now, that's just childish," Dean complained but his retort had to wait. When Dean had lifted his eyes away from the screen, he noticed a garden that looked surprisingly verdant for the time of the year. Dean put away his phone and approached the house that was attached to the garden. It was already spring, but it was still cool and nothing but buds should be sticking out of the soil. The plants in this garden were in full bloom already. Dean checked the details on the object. Fertility spells often also impacted nature. Maybe it was nothing, but Dean had to start somewhere.

He still wore his FBI outfit, so he followed the walkway and got up onto the porch to ring the doorbell. It took a moment for the door to open and a woman in her sixties poked her head out.

"Good afternoon Ma'am. I'm Agent Martell. Can I ask you some questions pertaining to a break-in the FBI's currently investigating in the area?" Dean showed her his badge and while the woman seemed surprised to have an FBI agent on her doorsteps, she didn't look nervous at all.

"Why's the FBI investigating a break in?" the lady asked, though she opened the door further.

"We have cause to believe that the storage unit that has been broken in belongs to organized crime," Dean answered and the lady nodded at that. Dean lifted his folder to pull out the pictures of the curse boxes that had been taken away. "We don't have a complete list of items, so some of the things which were stolen might be dangerous," Dean said, then he looked at the woman. "Some of the confirmed items might seem… unexpected. I suppose. We suspect they were used as a cover up." The lady looked at him expectantly and Dean felt a bit weird. She didn't exactly look like someone who would try to hide a cursed dildo from an FBI agent. Too no nonsense for that. Dean showed her a picture of the curse box the dildo was in. The woman put her reading glasses on her nose, squinting at the picture. Dean observed her expression and congratulated his instincts when he saw her widen her eyes in recognition. She took off her glasses and tapped them to the picture.

"My daughter recently bought a chest like that from a pawn shop," she said, then she handed the picture back to Dean. "But she didn't say what was in it."

"Can you give me her address?"

"She lives with me. Paying off student loans makes it hard for young people to get their own place. You know how it is, Agent," the woman said and then she motioned Dean to follow her. "Come on in. Denise's at work, but you can go check out her room."

"Are you sure? I can come back to get her permission," Dean asked, though he really wanted to get this done now. The woman waved her hand, going up the stairs.

"It's fine, it's fine. Denise's a good person, she wouldn't knowingly buy anything that was stolen," the woman said. Maybe she was a good person, but Dean still wondered how her mother would react if Dean found a giant dildo in her daughter's room. Dean went through the door the woman held open for him. He quickly combed the room, but the chest wasn't anywhere. Dean walked up to the window, to check for anything suspicious. The backyard was no actual garden, but a field that stretched between the houses in the neighborhood. There was a trail of flowers that started at the house, crossed the field and disappeared into a small copse of trees.

"Is there anything in that small wood over there?" Dean asked the mother. "Maybe a place where your daughter likes to go?"

"Hm? Well, there's an old cabin – more of a shed really – that belongs to her girlfriend's grandfather," she explained promptly. Well, that was a good lead. "Denise isn't in trouble, right…?" Dean turned away from the window and showed the woman a reassuring smile.

"No, Ma'am. We have to take the object though and ask her where she got it, in case the vendor has some of the other stolen objects too."

"Ah, that's fine," the woman said with an easy smile. Dean took his leave, exiting the house through the back door. He followed the trail of bright flowers. He quickly checked in with Sam and Mary to update them.

"If we interrogate Denise we might find out who got the items and who they sold them to," Dean said, still following the flowers. "Maybe there's even a connection to the dead person or other people who might be in danger."

"Yeah. I'm really worried about that locket, so maybe once you've got the cursed dildo and deposited it in the curse boxes Mom has in her car, you can help me with some tentative leads," Sam suggested. They agreed on that and Dean ended the call. He quickly checked his phone to make sure that he hadn't missed any of Cas' messages. Of course, there were no new ones.

The cabin was small and the key was placed in a pot with fake flowers.

"Amateurs," Dean muttered and let himself in. He didn't even have to go search for the chest because it was right there on a low coffee table between two cozy looking armchairs. The cabin didn't look like some place you'd go to for some sneaky, kinky sex. Maybe Denise had only gotten the chest after all, without contents. Dean opened the chest.

"Nope. There it is," Dean said and studied the dildo. It was made out of wood, painted in white with evenly drawn markings in a faded pink. It was very detailed and very big. Dean pulled out his phone and opened the conversation with Cas.

 **"Miss something?"** he typed out and then he reached out to take a picture of the dick.

One of the first rules of hunting? Don't touch cursed objects.

Dean had never been good at following this rule so he had no one but himself to blame when there was a flash of light and once his vision returned he was standing on a hill, surrounded by nothing but more hills and green valleys stretching before him.

A stiff breeze made him shiver in his jacket. Still dumbstruck he made a turn to try to figure out what the hell had just happened. He was standing in the middle of a small circle of some weird standing stones. He doubted he was still in the US.

"You've got to be kidding me…!" he hissed, then he took another look through the standing stones at the landscape beyond the hill. It didn't look like there was a city nearby. He was in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Dean pulled out his phone. No signal, of course.

"Awesome," Dean muttered when he pocketed his phone. He walked out of the circle, trying to figure out into which direction he should go. There seemed to be a building in the distance and there was some sort of unpaved path leading past the hill. He had no idea what the building was and if the path even led there, but it was his best shot.

Why would a cursed dildo send him to some random countryside, Dean wondered as he started walking. Maybe this was a sexy fantasy? Dean looked around. Nope, not enough naked people for a sexy fantasy. Actually, no people at all.

Crap, and all of this because he wanted to be a dick to Cas?

"Serves you right, Dean," he said into the wind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to another chapter! It took me slightly longer to update than I thought but now you get to real almost 10k of Dean having to fend for himself in a strange world! :D
> 
> While writing I thought for a long time about how to solve the language barrier issue. I hope you like the simple way I solved it.

Dean had gotten himself into a lot of bad situations in his life. Being flung across the globe and even across time was hardly the most outrageous thing to ever happen to him. It spoke tomes that irritation was his primary emotion as he trudged along the unpaved path between verdant hills and fields without a human being in sight. Maybe he should be worried or even afraid, but no, Dean was pissed off.

He had no idea where or when he was now, but he was unsettled by how quiet it was. Not a quiet that felt supernatural. He heard the wind, stirring the grass and swaying like dewy waves, and there was an occasional bird call, a flutter of wings accompanying a shadow passing over Dean's head. There was fog hanging over the fields, steaming up and blending into the pale sky that stretched, open and vast, all around Dean. This was the gentle quiet of empty landscapes that spoke of a total absence of people or streets with cars or even just planes flying overhead. Dean had a feeling why that was. Maybe he was wrong. He told himself that he could still be wrong, with each step that took him through the unpaved street with its gentle grooves that hinted at the occasional wagon passing through here. He passed a stone that lined the street, maybe a border stone. It had etchings not unlike the ones had seen in the stone circle he had been transported to. He thought about sitting down on it for a second, to rest his feet, but something stopped him. It seemed almost… disrespectful to sit on it, which was ridiculous. It was just a stone. Dean had half a mind to spite that weird apprehension in his chest, eying the twigs and picked flowers that seemed to circle the stone, but then he looked up. The building he had seen was just up ahead, behind tilled but empty fields and a low stone wall. No need to sit down so close to his destination.

The building he had seen from the hill proved to be a church or a monastery. Up close it looked to be old, but not too worn. Well taken care of, almost like it had just been built despite it giving Dean an ancient vibe. The brass plate next to the gate identified it as St. Michael.

Dean hammered his fist against the door, hearing the dull thud echo behind the door, wondering if this kind of remote place had a phone. Or at least some people who could give him an idea of where he was. If he was even in modern times.

Dean waited for a moment but nobody came to open the door, so he grumbled and let himself in when he found the door unlocked. It was chilly and dark in the stone hall behind the door.

The door fell back into its lock behind Dean with a loud slam. Nobody came running at the noise and Dean had the sinking feeling that he might be all alone. He decided to investigate. The church was made out of solid stones, with slim windows letting in rays of muted light, and there were old looking paintings on the walls, the paint more vibrant than Dean was used to from the pictures he had seen of similar paintings. Gold and silver items such as decorated chests and goblets stood in alcoves or on wooden tables. Despite the apparent missing modern luxuries like heating and electric light, the monastery probably had money.

Dean turned a corner and spotted light coming out of an open doorway. Dean stopped when he heard the shuffling of feet and then a man dressed in a robe came out into the corridor, bottles clutched to his chest. The man gave a start when he noticed Dean standing in the corridor, but quickly relaxed. Dean however was rooted to the spot.

It was Chuck.

"Dean," he said with a somewhat strained smile, trying to make sure none of the bottles fell out of his arms. Dean quickly got over his shock, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be angry or relieved to find him here.

"This is where you go to hide?" Dean asked, approaching Chuck in quick strides. "Really? The world is falling apart again and you hang out in some random monastery?" So anger it was then. Maybe it was stupid to antagonize God, but Dean's feet hurt from walking two hours in FBI shoes and he just wanted to get back home. Chuck stared at him, though his expression carried confusion more than anything else. Hesitatingly, Chuck said something that Dean didn't quite catch.

"What, speak up, dude," Dean said with a groan. When Chuck spoke again, Dean belatedly realized that he was speaking Latin. Dean wanted to punch something.

"Cut the crap, Chuck! Come on! Snap your fingers and send me back!" Dean said and Chuck actually startled by Dean snapping his fingers and raising his voice. Dean frowned at that and then he sighed. "Is Amara around?" The more Dean spoke the more Chuck started to fidget and while he quickly stammered something in reply, it was still Latin. Dean groaned.

"Can you send me back?" he asked in probably not quite grammatically correct Latin. Chuck stopped his fidgeting and stared at Dean, at least this time not like Dean was a raving madman. "Come on, Chuck! What am I doing here?" The Latin didn't really seem to help, because Chuck continued to look bewildered by Dean's questions. His gaze dropped down to the many bottles of wine he carried, as if he was wondering if he was drunk and imagining this all. Dean wondered the same the longer this continued on. Time to change tracks.

"Is Cas around?" Chuck actually seemed relieved to hear Dean ask.

"He's in his room," he replied and when Dean only looked at him with a blank expression, Chuck freed one finger from his tight hold of the wine bottles and pointed the way, down a corridor that branched off from the one they were in now. Before Dean could ask anything else, Chuck turned to leave, muttering something about heathens.

Dean stared after him, but if the choice was between Cas and Chuck, then Dean knew where to place his bets. He hurried down the corridor.

There were multiple doors here, but all were open and the rooms behind empty, showing stripped down wooden beds and bare tables. There were pictures hanging on the walls, of angels with ridiculous hairdos and comical expressions. Pretty much at the end of the corridor Dean found a closed door, so he hoped that this was the right place. He didn't wait to knock, simply let himself in. Cas was there, looking up from the desk he was sitting on, a startled look on his face.

Dean's heart sank.

It was Cas, but it was also not Cas. And it finally sunk in that there was really something wrong about this place Dean had been sent to. There was no way that he was still in his own universe. Cas rose to his feet and Dean had a chance to observe him. The Cas that looked back at him was younger than the one he knew, just enough to make it noticeable. He was dressed in a blue tunic that stopped over his knees and white cotton tights. His hair was longer, slightly wilder and his face was clean shaven.

"Dean?" he called and got up from his chair, but then he went on talking in a language Dean didn't understand. German maybe? Cas came closer, unperturbed by Dean's stunned silence. He put his hands on Dean's arms, then he started fussing with his clothes, a frown on his face as he checked him over with concern. Was Cas looking for injuries or was he just disapproving at the Fed suit?

Crap. If this was really a different universe that meant a different _him_ existed. A different version of him that Castiel touched with gentle, careful hands.

"Cas. Hold on," he said and Castiel looked up at him, clearly surprised by being addressed in Latin. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" Cas scoffed at that, an expression that Dean was at least more familiar with.

"Of course," he answered and took a step back. Dean lifted his hands, twirling his fingers to indicate the room they were in.

"What's with the whole set up, hm?" he wanted to know and looked down at Castiel, with his clothes that looked like he was in the middle of a LARPing campaign. "Where are we? _When_ are we?" Castiel lowered his eyebrows, his expression veering somewhere between suspicion and reproach.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, the previous concern mostly washed away. Dean frowned, wondering if getting drunk was a common enough occurrence for this version of himself, just like getting hurt might be. He imagined himself a rugged king in disguise, with a sword under his big fur coat that gleamed when the moonlight hit it. He'd look awesome. Maybe he was thinking about this too much. Cas grabbed his arm, giving him a light shake before he rubbed the polyester of his suit between his fingers. "Aren't you supposed to be at a summit in Greece?" Cas asked. Greece…? "Why are you back so early? Did you get tossed out?" Dean had no idea if that was something that happened to this version of himself, but he decided to take offense on principle alone.

"Hey now. I'm always well behaved!" he argued and Cas eyed him suspiciously. "So… Where and when?"

"St. Michael's village, 1216," Castiel finally said and Dean stared at him.

"1216…? The 13th century?" Dean asked incredulously and then he wiped his hand over his face, shaking his head. Castiel didn't react much, letting Dean pace a bit, trying to figure out what to do. "Look, Cas," Dean finally said, turning back to him. "I'm from another time or another dimension or whatever. I'm not entirely sure where I'm now, but I'm from a place which… you haven't even discovered yet… But it's 2017 there."

"Alright," Castiel said, surprisingly calm and that was an immense relief. "What happened?"

"I… uh… was investigating a case and I accidentally touched some cursed dick and landed here. On some hill two hours or so away from here," Dean explained and Castiel listened, somewhat dubious but still attentive. Something Dean said seemed to make sense to him, because his eyes widened slightly. He turned around and bent down to the floor, grabbing something that was under his bed. He got back on his feet and held it up for Dean to see.

"The cursed dildo!" Dean shouted in surprise and crossed the room to where Cas was standing. He reached out, hoping that this thing worked both ways for him, but then he hesitated and his fingers curled into his palm. He looked at Cas with a somewhat reserved expression. "Did you use it…?" Cas scowled again, but he didn't answer. Dean rubbed his hands, trying not to think about Cas using that. He had no idea if Cas was even into stuff like that. But why else would he have a dildo under his bed? Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to take a picture of the dildo and Cas' scowl.

"What is that?" Can wanted to know, when Dean took a moment to grin down at his phone.

"I took a picture of you to show to the Cas in my world. To prove that you are always a sour dude and that I was right that this dick belongs up his ass," Dean said with a grin. Cas wrinkled his nose at him and he was sure that if this Cas had a mobile phone he'd also send him the poop emoji for this kind of comment. Placing his phone back into his pocket, Dean reached out, putting his hand on the head of the dick, hoping for the same flash of light.

Nothing happened.

"Crap!" Dean hissed and even though he hadn't hissed it in Latin, clearly Cas got that he was agitated. Dean let go of the inconveniently not cursed object and then started pacing the room. There wasn't all that much space for pacing, but it was enough for Dean who just needed to move while he thought about what to do next. There were other options to travel through time and to other dimensions. But would he have access to the right ingredients or the right people? While Dean paced, Castiel put the dildo back under his bed, then he sat on the bench built into the wall, the window behind him.

"Maybe Dean – this world's Dean – can help you," Castiel said and Dean stopped pacing. He had his knuckles pressed to his lips and studied Cas.

"How?" he asked, opening his hand and holding it next to his head before he let it drop to his side as the obvious solution presented itself. "What about you?" he asked and Castiel lifted his eyebrow. "Can't you help?"

"Why should I be able to help?" he asked and Dean's heart sunk.

"Because angels can travel dimensions? Balthazar sent us flying to another world before," he said but then trailed off. Was Castiel even an angel here? What if Chuck hadn't faked his utter confusion? What if he wasn't God in this universe? What did that make Cas? Cas in his weird tunic, living in this weird monastery in some random 13th century place. Castiel had his hands on his knees, studying Dean with a clear and calculating look, as if he was trying to figure Dean out.

"I'm flattered, but I'm certainly no angel. I'm human and I have no powers," he said and Dean looked at him with barely concealed surprise. Castiel got up from his bench and approached Dean, his eyes intent. It made him look kind of intimidating and much more like the Cas Dean knew. "Who am I in your universe? In your time? Am I an angel?"

"Uhm," Dean stammered, stalling so he could do some quick thinking. What could he reveal? He had already said too much to take it back now. Could he disturb this dimension just by letting Cas know about another dimension? Surely that wouldn't have any effect on Cas here. "I suppose if I learn the secrets of this universe, I might as well share some of mine," Dean finally said and Castiel looked eager to hear it. Dean bit back a laugh, but before he could tell him all he wanted to know, a warning bell went off in the back of Dean's head. What about the cosmic consequences? How far reaching was Billie's pact? What if he dragged this human guy into the whole mess too?

"Dean?" Cas asked, looking concerned again. Dean shook his head. He just had to hope that whatever crap would happen, they didn't cause any ripple effects in other universes.

"Yeah, okay," he said and shrugged. "Where I come from you are an angel." Dean quickly lifted his hands when Castiel widened his eyes, clearly full of wonder and delight. He was instantly reminded of when Cas had lost his memories and thought that being an angel was "pleasant". "You're… uh. Not a regular, run of the mill angel."

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, tilting his head in a familiar way.

"First of all, you're not a dick," Dean said and Castiel narrowed his eyes. "I mean… Yeah, sometimes you are. Sometimes you're a veritable nightmare to be around." Castiel glared at Dean now, obviously offended, but he didn't talk back. Wow, Dean. That wasn't really a nice thing to say to the guy. Dean wiped his hand over his face. "I mean… You're a nice angel. One who likes humans and who is on our side." Dean was surprised when Cas softly laughed at that, then he smiled up at Dean.

"You sound like my Dean when you say that," he admitted fondly and Dean couldn't help the shiver going through him at the way Cas had said that. "My Dean doesn't like angels either, but I never understood why." Dean heaved a sigh.

"We'd better leave it at that," he decided and Castiel rolled his eyes, but he still seemed to be very pleased. "I don't wanna burst your bubble, buddy." Dean took his eyes off Cas and then looked around the room. "And uh… You? What are you? Apart from human I mean." The room they were in was small and sparingly furnished. It held a bed and a desk with chair, as well as a trunk. But all the objects inside of it, from the carved chest to the pillow on the window bench, everything looked rather rich.

"I'm a missionary," Castiel said and Dean lifted his eyebrow at that. "I came here to convert people to Christianity."

"Seriously?" Dean snorted at that. "Yeah, well good luck I suppose."

"Luck doesn't have much to do with it. I was ordered to come here, but it's not… going well," Cas said, diplomatically. Dean had to laugh at that.

"Yeah okay. You always get the hard missions, no matter what universe you're in," Dean said somewhat fondly. He coughed when he felt embarrassed by the soft smile Cas sent him. He turned away, swinging his arms and looking around the room. But there still wasn't anything new to see here.

"So uh… What about me? What am I that you think I could help getting me back home?" Dean wondered and finished his circle, turning back towards Cas. Then he narrowed his eyes at Cas. "Do I even want to know…?"

"I suppose?" Castiel retorted which wasn't really helpful. What Cas said next made Dean suck in a sharp breath: "You're a god."

"Uh."

"Not God, obviously. You're one of the deities the people here worship," Castiel explained almost as if he was worried Dean would be offended or even hope for too much.

"A pagan god, huh?" Dean asked, though the surprise soon morphed into smugness. "That's new. Heh. Neat." But then the doubt still crept back in. Because him? A god? "You sure…?" Cas laughed at that.

"Yes Dean. I'm sure," he told him, then he gestured towards the tiny fireplace opposite Castiel's bed. Dean looked towards it in confusion. "We can try to summon you. _Him_ I mean. Maybe he can send you back home."

On one hand Dean absolutely wanted to meet a version of himself that was a god, because that was awesome and he could rub it into Sam's face (or Cas' face because if Dean was a god then Sam probably was too). On the other hand Dean had met many pagan gods in the last couple of years and none of them were… well… Good people. He had killed almost every god he met.

"What's wrong?" Castiel asked and Dean reached behind himself to pull his gun out of his waistband and checked the bullets.

"What if this god version of me kills me on the spot? I've only got a regular gun with regular bullets. That'd only piss off a god," Dean said.

"Dean wouldn't harm you," Castiel insisted. "He's sweet and docile." Dean snorted upon hearing these kinds of words thrown around to describe himself.

"I've got a hard time believing that, but fine. Let's summon that son of a bitch," he said with a cocky grin and his gun still in hand. Just in case. Castiel threw him an unimpressed look, then he turned towards the door and not towards the fireplace as Dean has suspected.

"Dean doesn't like it when he is summoned here. The fireplace is too small for his taste," Castiel said and Dean looked at him in confusion.

"Only the best for me, huh?" he teased, but he followed Cas out of the room.

"Nobody but Chuck is here and around this time he's probably locked in his room, writing. We can summon Dean in the kitchen," Castiel said and they went back to where Dean had come from. The kitchen was just a short walk away and surprisingly bigger than Dean had expected. There was a rough wooden table in the middle of the room, with two benches. The stone room had an arched roof, somewhat tarnished by ash, but otherwise it seemed clean. There was an impressive fireplace and Cas carefully removed the grill and other items that were used for cooking, depositing them on the stone counter next to the stove. Cas quickly checked the corridor, then he locked the door, possibly to keep Chuck from walking in on them. He also went to the open door that led outside, where Dean could see flat ground, somewhat covered by straw and chicken scratching in the dirt. Castiel closed that door too.

"So, what's the deal with Chuck?" Dean asked, curious to figure out if Chuck was God incognito too here.

"What about him?" Castiel asked and Dean watched him put new wood into the fireplace. Cas looked over his shoulder, but Dean just shrugged. "He's a scribe."

"Nothing supernatural about him?"

"Unless you count his ability to drink a lot of wine? No," Cas said and took tools from the little shelf built into the wall. He quickly was able to spark a fire.

"And Chuck doesn't happen to have a sister called Amara?"

"I've never asked," Castiel said and then he turned away from the fire to study Dean. "Do I want to know what Chuck is in your universe?" Dean winced at that and shook his head.

"Nah, probably not," he said and Cas seemed content to leave it at that. He watched the fire for a moment and Dean looked around the generous kitchen. There was a lot of space for more missionaries. Or monks or whatever.

"Where is everybody by the way?"

"The monks prefer to live in the town by the harbor, where the church is able to provide more modern luxuries." Dean didn't comment that he felt that there was nothing luxurious or modern about anything in the 13th century. "There isn't much to do around here, especially at this time of the year, so they leave the monastery and the village of St. Michael in our hands."

"Seems a lot of responsibility," Dean commented and Castiel did seem proud at that.

"Abbot Zachariah is generous with his trust," he replied and the name instantly raised red flags. Castiel noticed Dean's disturbed look. "What?"

"Zachariah was a huge douchebag in my universe," he said and Cas laughed. "I mean it. He was a really horrible person, who tried to manipulate all of us. And he was your boss too. So I'm just trying to look out for you, dude." Castiel's smile slipped when he noticed how serious Dean was.

"The abbot does have some vices, but he is not a bad person," Castiel assured him. Dean had to remind himself that this was not his universe.

"If you say so," he muttered and that seemed to be the end of the conversation for Cas. The missionary turned back to the fire and said something in that language Dean didn't understand. The fire hissed and Castiel turned back to Dean.

"It might take a moment for Dean to answer. He is-" Before Castiel could finish his sentence the fire changed form, becoming solid. There was something climbing out of the big hearth and Dean instinctively raised his gun at whatever was coming for him. The figure was huge, maybe as tall as Sam even, looking bulky with his coat and the fur collar. The creature brushed flickering flames off its coat and tapped his leather shoes on the floor, shaking off ash. He had the same hair as Dean, but seemed paler, like he hadn't seen the sun in a while, making the sea of freckles on his face stand out. When he looked up, his eyes were black like a demon's but the iris was bright green. Two black stripes were drawn over the bridge of his nose, the lower one longer than the upper. The creature looked towards Castiel and Dean noticed how young he appeared. At least 10 years younger than Dean was. Somehow this shocked Dean more than he had expected and he felt his own years like a physical weight pressing down on him as he gazed at this creature. The god was looking at Cas, his mouth opening to address him, but suddenly his eyes snapped to Dean. Dean should raise his gun and defend himself, but he couldn't. There was no menace or distrust on the god's face, instead there was concern. The creature took a step towards him and his power brushed Dean; it radiated warmth and love and calm, washing over Dean like a gentle caress.

Dean felt like he couldn't breathe and his eyes burned. And was he crying? Fuck! What the hell. He had to sit down.

So he did, heavily falling on the wooden bench, his gun dropping uselessly next to him. He knew he wasn't going to shoot this thing. He couldn't. Why though? He had faced God himself and hadn't been such a wreck.

Dean snapped out of his thoughts when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He looked at it, seeing black nails and markings wrapped around his fingers. He looked up and saw the god study him. He spoke softly to him, in a language that Dean didn't understand. Castiel stepped up to him, to tell him something.

"Worry not, everything will be fine," the god said, the Latin flowing neatly and elegantly from his lips. The god gave his shoulder a squeeze before he let go of him and then he was turning towards Cas. "Beloved, could you run to your brother and get this traveler something to eat?"

Beloved…? Had Dean heard that right?

Castiel heaved a sigh, but he smiled indulgently. "Preferably some of your brother's delicious pie. If he's willing to share."

"You know he never is, but he will," Castiel insisted. Dean couldn't tear his eyes away when he watched them interact. The easy smiles, the softly spoken words, the way this version of him could brush his thumb over Castiel's cheek and then lean in to press a kiss to his forehead. It seemed so simple to them. And he and Cas shouted at each other. Dean rubbed his face with his palms. Apparently, Dean's groan made Cas spring into action, because he said a quick good-bye and then he was out of the kitchen. Not much later, Dean heard the heavy slam of the front door falling shut.

When Dean looked back up he found his counterpart studying him with his arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face. Now that the initial shock to his system had passed, he felt it in him to scowl up at him.

"What are you grinning at?" Dean asked and the other guy laughed at that, then he shrugged out of his coat which made him look less menacing. Dean eyed his fashion choice; the dude was wearing something which might have been a tunic but certainly looked like a dress. The round collar was decorated with gold and a black belt was tied around his waist. "Nice dress, dude."

"Thank you," the god replied unironically. "I wish I could say the same about your get up but it is… odd."

"It's a suit. It'll come into fashion," he said and the god grinned at that, his teeth looking sharp enough to tear out someone's throat. He wasn't gonna be intimidated by himself, damn it. "Aren't you the least bit suspicious of me? I could be a shape shifter."

"You're human. I can see your soul," the god replied easily. His arms were crossed again and he bent forwards slightly, studying Dean's face. Dean swatted at him, though he missed his face. "Hm hm. You look like you've been through some unpleasant experiences, my friend." Now that was putting it lightly. Dean rolled his eyes at him, hardly impressed. "But I also feel that you and me are similar."

"Similar how? I'm certainly not a pagan god. I hunt things like you," he said and the god lifted an eyebrow.

"The fates haven't given you an easy mission in life then," the god said and Dean growled at him. The other one huffed, somewhat perplexed by Dean's hostility. The puff of air that hit Dean's face was hot but weirdly smelled like freshly turned soil.

"What kind of god are you anyway?" Dean asked and the god drummed his fingers against his arms in amusement. He shifted his head slightly, the golden earrings he wore catching the light of the fire.

"Are you thinking about ways to kill me, hunter? Wondering what kind of wood dipped into which blood will make me burn out?" the god asked and Dean rolled his eyes. "Not that any of that would work. I can't be killed like other gods." He winked, but then turned serious. "Do you really want to talk about me, now? How about we find out how to get you home?" Dean had no good argument to that, but he vowed to still satisfy his curiosity.

Dean gave the deity a rundown of the events that brought him here. The god winced at the mention of the cursed dick.

"That thing is haunting me too," he said and rubbed his forehead with a deep sigh. "It was made as an offering to me some two centuries ago. It keeps coming back, no matter how I lock it up." Dean pulled a face.

"That was made for you…?" He took some satisfaction seeing how the guy's pale face turned red.

"Not for me to use, you dick. It was made in my image. A fancy and somewhat uncomfortable form of flattery," the god explained and Dean pressed his lips together, then his eyes dropped down to the god's crotch.

"Slightly exaggerated, isn't it? I know my own dick pretty well," Dean said and somehow the god must have taken it as a challenge, because he made a motion to pull up the skirt and unbind the strings of his leggings.

"Woah! Dude! Keep it in your pants!" Dean said, catching a glimpse of what looked like further markings on his stomach and a sizeable bulge in his leggings.

"Damn," he mouthed and that seemed to satisfy the god, because he let his tunic drop, flattening it down and looking the image of innocence. Dean stared at nothing at all for a second, trying to wrap his mind about the god's junk. Eventually, he shook his head and looked at the creature. "So if that dick is yours, how did it end up in my dimension?"

"That's not a question I can answer with certainty," the god said and sat down on the bench opposite Dean, crossing his arms on the table top. "To be honest I can't even guess as I'm not sure how dimension travelling works."

"But you can send me back home?" Dean asked, alarmed by the guy's words. Dread filled Dean as he saw his counterpart shake his head.

"It's not within my power to travel in time or to create portals into other dimensions. I'm just a simple deity," he said. Dean cocked his eyebrow at that because a god that can't be killed by the usual means didn't sound like a simple deity to Dean. But he had other matters to attend to.

"So what? I'm stuck here? Don't you have an angel on speed dial?"

"Speed dial…?" The god asked, but he seemed to recover pretty quickly from the unfamiliar term. "I try to keep my interactions with angels to a minimum," he said gloomily.

"Yeah… The only angel I can tolerate is Cas," Dean said and the god laughed out. When Dean only arched his eyebrow, he stopped laughing and bent closer.

"What, are you serious? Cas is an angel in your universe? Sweet Castiel?" he asked incredulously. Now it was Dean's turn to laugh.

"Cas – your Cas – mentioned that you didn't like angels."

"I would rather shove that cursed dick up my ass than spend any time in the company of the likes of Michael," the god said with a disgusted sneer. "And Castiel, blinded by the tales of his church, idolizes him. I want to set something on fire whenever he talks about the wonderful archangel Michael."

"In my world Cas threw burning holy oil at Michael," Dean laughed at the memory, though he thought not to mention that Cas got exploded for it afterwards. "It was awesome."

"This is balm for my soul," the god said with a cheeky grin.

"Do you even have a soul?" Dean asked dubiously which seemed to offend the god, so Dean lifted his hand in a placating manner. God Dean didn't have the chance to start a lecture on souls, or whatever else he had geared himself up to saying, because the sound of the door opening reached them. Not much later Castiel was back in the room with them, a basket in his arms that he presented proudly.

"A sight for sore eyes!" the god said excitedly and took the basket from Cas, who then opened the clasp of his coat and hung it on a hook by the door.

"Are you talking about me or the pie?" Cas asked in amusement.

"What kind of question is that? You hurt me, sweetheart," god Dean said, holding his hand over his heart, but when Cas turned away the god sent Dean a meaningful look and nodded his head towards the pie.

And the pie did look delicious.

"In my universe Cas has I don't know how many siblings. Which one of them made the pie?" Dean wondered, but then he was momentarily distracted because he took a bite of the slice the god had put in front of him. "This is delicious," he said with his mouth full. Castiel shook his head at him, but he seemed fond. Cas didn't sit, instead he combed his fingers through his Dean's hair, messing it up slightly and then petting it back into shape. The god leant into the touch without any hesitation. Dean felt jealously sink its nasty claws into his heart. He swallowed it down with another bite of pie.

"Jimmy," Cas replied and then he sat down next to his version of Dean.

"What…? Jimmy? Jimmy Novak?"

"Yes?" Cas asked and Dean grimaced. "He's my twin brother."

"He was your vessel in my universe," he offered. Castiel looked confused but god Dean's face clouded over in understanding. Upon seeing his expression, it was clear that the god didn't want this conversation to go any further. "Hey, so… Any ideas on how I'm getting home?"

"Can't Dean help you?" Castiel asked, seemingly willing to let the other topic drop.

"No… I don't have that kind of power. Maybe it's best if Dean comes with me, so we can research with Sam," he said and that sounded like a good idea to Dean. He was actually curious how a god lived.

"Aren't you supposed to be at your summit?" Cas asked but Dean shrugged.

"I've shown my face, that should suffice. It's more like a friendly get together. We don't have any pressing matters to discuss that they need my input for. The world greens, people live and die, the fires burn." Dean reached out to pinch Cas' cheeks. "And the pesky Christians continue to be a pain in the ass," he said with a grin. Cas swatted his hand away with an irritated grunt. Dean said a couple of words to him in their language that had Cas retort something that made the cheeky grin disappear at once. Dean watched the interaction and couldn't help pulling out his phone. He snapped a picture of them, but they were too busy talking to notice. He had no reception here of course, but he wished he could sent Cas a text. The longing he felt for him right now, looking at what could be, was almost too much to bear.

"Other than you, I do have to work." Dean looked up when he heard the words spoken in Latin. "So we'll see each other later." Castiel smiled at the god, then he got up from the bench. He walked around the table so he could put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"You will find your way home," he assured him. "Dean will make sure of it." Dean couldn't do anything but nod, soaking in Cas' uninhibited smile.

"Yeah. Thanks, Cas," he said. Cas nodded, then he left the kitchen. When Dean turned back to the god, he found him looking at him with a grin.

"Alright, shall we? The sooner I get you home, the sooner I will be able to return to Cas." He winked, then he got up. He put on his coat and turned towards the fire. He seemed to reconsider though and snatched the rest of the pie off the table. Dean couldn't blame him.

He got up from the bench and walked up to his medieval counterpart. Standing next to him like this, he was able to properly study him. His body radiated heat, so he was probably some sort of elemental deity. Since he had come out of the fire, there was a good chance that he was associated with it. Dean issued a guess that he was either a Celtic or a Norse god, but in the lore he hadn't really come across anyone like this dude and Dean considered himself relatively well-read. Dean's previous assumption that this Dean was taller than him didn't seem to be entirely true – the god just seemed larger than life. Maybe it was the coat.

"Ready?" the god said and then nodded his head towards the flames.

"I'm not going to step into the fire," Dean told him, but his other self made a grab for his hand. Dean was too stunned by it to resist. Hand-holding with a god? Seriously? Then the god pulled him forwards and Dean stepped into the flames.

* * *

 

Dean momentarily felt the heat, but it didn't hurt him. Within a moment they were out of the fire, in a big hall.

"Travelling through fire places. Very Harry Potter," Dean muttered to himself, then he looked down at his side. "Dude, you can let go of my hand."

"Ah, apologies," the god said and let go of him, stepping away from the fireplace. This gave Dean a chance to look around. The hall they were in had a stone floor but the high walls and the ceiling were made of wood. The ceiling was painted a dark blue with stars and constellations painted. Below them a grid of wooden beams connected the walls in either straight lines or decorative arches. The wood was carefully carved and painted and a cat sat on one of them, sending him an unimpressed look.

"Don't mind Pillow, she respects no one in this house," the god commented, sending the so-called Pillow a sharp look. Dean eyed the cat, but truth to be told, he was more interested in the rest of this house. It was like walking through a Lord of the Rings set. Through high wooden doors, they reached a corridor, just as decorated as the hall before had been. They came to what Dean assumed might be an entrance hall, the high ceiling carried by wooden columns and the open door showing the landscape behind.

"Nice," Dean said and stepped out of the door, finding himself on a stone porch, slightly sheltered from the elements by the awning. He took pictures of the landscape around him, the green hills becoming hazy in the distance. Then he turned around and looked at the building from the outside.

"This is a fricking stave church?!" Dean asked and looked at the wooden structure before him. "A pagan god lives in a church? Isn't that weird?"

"It's not a church if I live in it," the god said, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, I suppose so. But it's cool. I live in a bunker," he said and the god eyed him with confusion, but didn't think it necessary to ask for an explanation. Dean took a last look at the façade of the building, then he went back inside. The corridor they took now was torch lit, despite the light coming in from the windows. The artworks and carvings on the wall were amazing, there was even a huge woven tapestry showing some sort of forest scene and in the middle was a woman with blonde hair, holding two children to her chest. Dean felt like he was in a museum, just way cooler.

He trailed after the god, stepping into a warm room, dark wooden shelves lining the walls, columns of light falling through the windows onto the table that stood in the middle. The table itself was huge, allowing for the big scrolls, maps and heavy books that were currently piled on it. A figure was sitting at the table and it didn't take much guessing to know that this was this universe's Sam. He looked younger, his short, messy fringe hanging into his face. His eyes were black like his brother's but when they approached and Sam lifted his head, Dean could see that his iris was gold. Sam was frowning up at his brother, but then he noticed Dean and his expression turned to one of wonder. He slammed the book shut and Dean jumped slightly, but he wasn't afraid. His eyes dropped down to Sam's hands. They were dark, like they had been dipped into dye. The brothers exchanged a couple of sentences in their language, before Sam lifted his hands to invite Dean to take a seat.

"I am delighted to meet you," the god said and Dean didn't quite know what to answer, so he took a seat. His counterpart took a seat too, relaxing back into his chair. "We knew that there were worlds that existed next to our own, but we have never met a traveler such as yourself. Especially not ourselves from a different universe! I didn't know it was possible," Sam said and Dean's mouth quirked up into a smile at Sam's enthusiasm.

"It's not my first cross universe journey. Though last time it's been pretty disturbing to meet my alternative self. I always thought it best that our worlds don't mix too much."

"Oh? Do you find this world disturbing too?" god Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. If it were anybody else Dean might have felt apprehensive to not offend, but the god didn't seem threatening at all.

"Nah," Dean said with a grin. "It's cool that I'm a god here. Though it's also kinda weird, since I've killed a lot of pagan gods in my time."

"I suppose they deserved it," Sam muttered after he shot his brother a look.

"Let's just say that none of them have ever been friendly. If something preys on humans then we try to put an end to it," Dean explained, then he looked from one god to the other. "You… don't. Right?"

God Dean laughed at that, tilting back his head, clearly amused.

"I guess that answers my question," Dean said, "but what do you do?" He looked at Sam, finding him fretting slightly, widening his eyes when he found Dean's attention on him. "I suppose you're some kind of nerd. Something with wisdom or law? Definitely something boring."

"Hah, Sam! Have you heard that? You're a _nerd_! Whatever that is," Sam's brother called, much to Sam's consternation. But he didn't deny Dean's guess.

"And I? I mean you?" Dean started, eying the god before him. "I bet you're something very cool."

"You're a fertility god," Sam deadpanned. Dean's smile dropped off his face and he started at Sam's smug expression. Then he looked over at his counterpart who had sunken back in the chair, looking mortified.

"What?" Dean managed to ask. A big strong guy like he was, someone who seemed heroic and badass… was a fertility god?!

"I'm the god of homes and families! The god of hearth fires! Fertility is just a side effect!!" he argued hotly and Dean whistled.

"At least that explains the cursed dick!" he said and the god groaned.

"I don't understand why you're so embarrassed about this anyway," Sam chimed in, sending his brother a cheeky smile. God Dean answered with a glare and they started squabbling in their language. Dean didn't even need to know what they were talking about; his and Sam's arguments were long familiar. He snapped a picture of them too for good measure, but then he swiped his finger over the screen, coming back to the bland home screen. There were the messages he and Cas had exchanged, nothing new of course considering he was so far out of reach. His heart felt heavy when he thought about Cas and the aching silences of words unspoken between them. Why was anger all that ever seemed to explode out of them? He put his phone away.

"Guys, I'd love to hang out, but I really should get back to my own world," he said, causing the bickering to die down at once. His counterpart studied him, his eyes gleaming bright.

"You're unsettled," he decided, his mouth pulling down into a frown. Dean didn't like how exposed the words made him feel, so he merely shrugged.

"What exactly is it that is pulling you home?" Sam spoke up and Dean lifted his eyebrow at him.

"Uh, maybe my life?" he said but Sam waved his hand dismissively.

"It must be a family issue if Dean's reacting to you," he declared and Dean cringed. "Is it a prank war? That can be very unsettling to our family dynamic."

"What? No. And they only seem unsettling to you because you always lose," Dean grumbled and ignored Sam's put-upon expression. Instead he turned to the other god. "Are you a family therapist or what?"

"Sometimes," he answered with a small smile. "I don't know if we are alike, but I know how much disquiet inside our family can unsettle me. And I can see that something weighs heavy on you." Despite his words, he leant back in his chair, shrugging easily. "Then again, you are a hunter. You bear the burdens of your vocation." Dean felt that the god was giving him an easy out of the conversation, knowing fully well how little Dean loved having to put his emotions in the spotlight, especially when Sam was around. Dean thought about shrugging it off, but he felt the weight of his phone in his pocket like a brick. He thought about Cas' anguished expression and about their petty arguments skirting around the actual issue. He felt the pain of Cas' dying declaration of love and the anguish of his own answering silence. He realized that he wanted to talk about it, to someone at least, maybe someone who wouldn't add more to the guilt.

"I'm worried about Cas," he confessed. Sam lifted his eyebrows in surprise, while god Dean rubbed his fingers across his mouth, silent. He felt a spark of shame flare up. "Between us… It's not like your relationship, Dean. We're not…" He cleared his throat, feeling his face heat up uncomfortably. "Together."

"As I understand it, it's very difficult for two humans of the same sex to be open about their relationship in public," Sam spoke up, his expression compassionate. The fact that he had black eyes and freaky black hands didn't change anything about his puppy dog expression.

"Yeah but… It's not so bad anymore in my century. They couldn't… burn me at the stake for it or whatever it is you medieval guys are doing."

"Well, we're not doing it, our pantheon is very accepting, but human laws-" Sam started and his brother groaned loudly.

"Boring. And not something we have to discuss now, because I'm sure he can consult the history books for that," he said and Sam shot him dirty look, but he did give a nod. "So. Unspoken love? Is this what pulls you back?"

"Actually, I-I don't think that's it," Dean said even though that was probably one of the main issues that made his stomach church uncomfortably. "It's because Cas did something stupid and now he's got cosmic consequences hanging over his head. And instead of staying with me, he still goes running off!"

"Cosmic consequences?" the god asked, looking at his brother who shrugged. "I don't think I understand."

"Sam and I were imprisoned and we made a blood pact with a reaper called Billie."

"You know her?" Sam asked and his brother pursed his lips but then shook his head. "What was in the blood pact?"

"In order to get our freedom Billie demanded that one Winchester dies at midnight. And not just… a normal death. Sam and I have died a couple of times already, but we were always brought back."

"Impressive," the god commented under his breath but Dean didn't feel it in himself to be proud about it.

"Billie wanted to toss one of us into the Empty," he explained but received blank looks from both deities. "I guess that's beyond even your paygrade."

"Not necessarily," Dean mused. "But go on?"

"Before any one of us could choose death, Castiel killed Billie, preventing the blood pact from being completed. But Billie said that if a blood pact was broken there would be cosmic consequences. And they're now looming over Cas' head. But the guy doesn't care. He just doesn't care." Dean felt anger bubbling up and he tried to squash it down. "He gets himself from one deadly situation into the next. And he lies to me and tricks me and is just generally an uncooperative pain in the ass. It all came to a head when we had to trap him in a ring of holy fire because he was being manipulated by the unborn spawn of Satan. And now he won't talk to me even though we basically saved his ass and the world in the process!"

The two brothers were silent, Sam clearly surprised while Dean wore a serious expression.

"And I thought your and Cas' inability to talk to each other was bad," Sam muttered, which made his brother's stern face crack. He scowled in annoyance and pushed at his brother.

"Shut up," he muttered then he turned towards Dean. "You are worried about Castiel but you aren't clever about showing it."

"Oh, and you're so in touch with your feelings," Dean retorted because that was easier than just admitting the obvious. Sam bit back a laugh at that but the god rolled his eyes.

"I'm not. But when it gets to Cas, not talking to him about my emotional crap gets us nowhere. We both don't like confronting possible issues in our relationship but we have no other choice," the god said. He inched forwards on his seat, folding his hands on the table and leaning closer to Dean. "You are angry at him for getting into trouble, but didn't you and Sam make the blood pact in the first place? You agreed to something as ludicrous as sacrificing your life for an escape out of a prison?" Dean squirmed uneasily at that. "I know my Cas' heart and if he had to make a choice between your death and potential bad consequences, he'd always going to choose you. That's just how it is. This is how it all is for us. Screw consequences, right?" Here he looked at his brother who merely shrugged weakly. "We all have made bad calls and had to be saved by someone else's sacrifice."

"Yeah…" Dean agreed with a sigh. It had seemed like the only option out at that time. But why? Why had it only taken six weeks for him to give up on Cas and mom finding a way to break them out? What were six weeks? Six weeks of nothing compared to an eternity in the Empty? It seemed so stupid in hindsight. But both he and Sam had agreed to the blood pact at the time.

"You're always wiser afterwards," Sam said gently, almost as if had read Dean's thoughts.

"Yeah, but I don't know what to do now...," Dean told him. "Even if I get back home, I can't talk to Cas because he's giving me the cold shoulder." Of course, Dean deserved it with how he had been acting.

"I'm sure he won't forever," Sam insisted and Dean knew it was true. But who knew when cosmic consequences decided to bite Cas in the ass.

"How am I supposed to find a way home?" he asked. The two gods before him exchanged a look.

"Are you going to call him?" god Dean asked to which Sam's expression became pinched at once.

"I don't want to make the call," he insisted and his brother was apparently gearing himself up to some sort of winning argument, but Dean chose to interrupt:

"What's going on?" His counterpart deflated at that and turned towards him.

"We have a friend who can travel through dimensions but he can be a bit annoying," he told him, "and I certainly didn't want to summon him when Cas was around. I'm not going to burst his bubble about angels."

Dean frowned at that. He could feel the gears in his head turning, putting together the hints until- oh no.

"Who's having a party without inviting me?" The familiar voice made Dean's skin crawl. Still, he turned around, finding Gabriel standing behind him, a grin on his face.

"We were just about to summon you," Sam told him with an annoyed expression, but Gabriel's grin didn't slip. Well, Gabriel might be an asshole, but at least it wasn't someone else. Like Metatron. He'd rather stay here forever than trust that guy to send him back home.

"So, what are you here? Loki? Gabriel?" Dean asked, keeping his tone unimpressed. Gabriel laughed at that.

"Nice clothes, very second-rate Men in Black, but I suppose it's working for you," Gabriel commented instead of answering.

"You're a nuisance in all universes, aren't you?" Dean asked, to which Gabriel shrugged, "but I'm still glad to see you. I think."

"Praise, I'm shocked," Gabriel exclaimed, touching his chest and gasping.

"Can you get me back to my own universe and my time?" Dean asked instead of rewarding Gabriel with a reaction.

"No problem," Gabriel said with a grin, then he turned towards the other pagan gods. "And you boys? Do you want a ride into the mystical land of an alternative future?"

"No, thank you," Sam grumbled, but Dean got up from his seat.

"I do. I want to take a look at Cas and see if I can't do something about those cosmic consequences you're worried about," he said. Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest, lifting his eyebrow.

"Cosmic consequences? What the hell did the poor sap get himself into?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "And what am I going to find in that world anyway?"

"Cas is an angel in my universe," he said which caused Gabriel to bark out a laugh.

"Really," he said, "I doubt he's a good one."

"Hey now," god Dean grumbled, quick to jump to Castiel's defense even when it wasn't his own Cas.

"Maybe you could postpone that fight for later?" Sam suggested and Gabriel snapped his fingers, making the young god startle. But before Dean knew what was going on there was a flash of light and the next thing he saw was the interior of Denise's cabin. The box and the cursed dildo were gone, so Dean assumed that Mary or Sam had been around to look for him. Gabriel whistled loudly.

"Oh, yeah. This universe does give off some weird vibes," he said and Dean turned around to find him standing there in regular, modern clothes. The god too was dressed in jeans and dark green flannel, and he was fingering sunglasses that Gabriel had apparently put onto his nose. Noticing Dean's look Gabriel shrugged.

"I couldn't control where we would pop up. I didn't want to startle people with this dude," Gabriel said then he lifted his hands. "So now you just have a weird twin brother, congratulations!" Gabriel clapped the god on the back. "Call me when you need me. I'm going to check out the sights and by that I mean pick up some ladies." With that he disappeared. The god finally pulled his glasses down, frowning at them. Then he looked down at himself, pulling at his shirt.

"This is what you wear?", he asked, somewhat displeased.

"We can buy you a dress later, now shut up and put the glasses back on your nose, evil twin."

"Why am I the evil twin?" the god complained, "besides, I can conceal my powers." Dean watched how the black disappeared out of his eyes and the markings lost their pigmentation until they were no longer visible at all.

"Now it got just a bit weirder," Dean muttered to himself, looking at the god lifting his leg to study the soles of his boots. Dean shook his head, then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Now that he had service again his screen lit up with a dozen missed calls from Sam and his mother. And Cas. He opened his texts.

**"Sam's worried because you didn't check in with him. Call him back."**

**"Dean?"**

**"Did something happen? Do you need help?"**

**"Please call me."**

Dean stopped reading and dialed Cas' number.

"Dean?" Dean breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to hear Cas' voice.

"Hey, sorry, man. The cursed dildo sent me into a different dimension." There was silence on the other end of the line for a beat.

"What…? Are you alright? How did you come back?" Dean chuckled at that.

"I'm fine, Cas. And I will explain. Where are you? I think you need to be here too for this." Out of the corner of his eyes he could see god Dean pacing through the small cabin, touching things.

"I'm in town to help. I just left the motel for a moment to get coffee," Cas said before Dean could snap at the god to stop touching everything.

"Great, meet me there," he said and when he heard Cas' agreement he hung up. He felt lighter around his heart already, just a bit.

"Come on, you can meet Sam and mom too," Dean said to his counterpart. He nodded with a grin and followed Dean out of the cabin. Dean wondered just how exactly he was going to explain this without anyone shooting the god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts, constructive criticism, etc! The next chapter is already written, but maybe you bring up elements and questions that I didn't think to answer! ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, part three! 
> 
> (If you've read the tags you saw that there's very temporary character death. It's part of a spell, similar to how Dean and Sam asked Billie to kill them to get out of prison.)

As it turned out, the god didn't even flinch when he was face to face with drawn guns. He did however narrow his eyes slightly at the angel blade that Castiel was holding by his side. Not threatening yet, but the warning was clear.

"What is happening here?" Mary demanded to know, when Dean squeezed himself between his family and their visitor. He had one fist-full of green flannel, keeping his evil twin in place, and the other hand he held out in front of himself, trying to keep his family from firing bullets.

"Everything's alright! He's me from another dimension! He's here to help!" Dean explained hastily. The tension in the room didn't lift, but the guns were lowered. The sharp, distrustful look didn't leave Mary's face at all, but Sam's startled wonder soon shifted to unabashed awe. Dean breathed a sigh in relief, then he took a look at the god, who merely smiled at him. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Trust the guy to just walk into the room, disregarding Dean's warning that there were two hunters with weapons and an angel waiting behind the door.

"How are you so calm?" Dean asked, exasperated, but then he rubbed his palm over his face. "You probably don't even understand us."

"I understand," the god said and Dean stared at him, getting to see a big grin. Human looking or not, his teeth were still sharp. "I'd wager a guess that this is thanks to the magic of the crossing," he said and Dean lifted his eyebrows. The god's voice sounded slightly stilted and accented, but it was easier than to speak in Latin and make a dozen mistakes in every other sentence.

"So… uh," Sam started, putting his gun away, "you came here from another dimension? Both of you?"

"Yeah, the stupid dick sent me into the 13th century of an alternative universe," Dean said but was prevented from continuing by the room erupting in noise.

"Dean! You never touch cursed objects! What were you thinking?!" Sam shouted and Mary echoed it while Cas just scoffed.

"I'm sorry!" Dean snapped and saw Sam pull a face. Mary was eying the god.

"You don't exactly look like you're from the 13th century," she said, keeping the gun in her hands.

"My attire would have attracted attention," the god replied and Dean noted how he smiled at Mary, open and unburdened. Not like he had to walk on eggshells around her. Sam coughed and Dean looked towards him.

"The cursed dick sent you into another dimension? I sure hope that you didn't…" Sam made a vague gesture and Dean felt his face heat up.

"Gross, Sam!" he shouted and the Dean next to him groaned too.

"Maybe we should clear this situation up now," Castiel said, his voice a tick impatient. He lifted two cups of coffee and offered them to the two Deans. Dean took it graciously, but the other one eyed Castiel. Cas met his look, squinting hard.

"I can't read you," Cas eventually decided, voice sounding irritated but not wary. Cas pushed the cup against the god's chest so that he had to take it. "You're not human, but I don't know what you are." Now it was Dean's turn to grin proudly.

"He's a pagan god," he declared and looked to the side to find Dean reach up his hand to tap the bridge of his nose. The markings returned, as did the freaky eyes. Sam and Mary took a step back, surprised, but at least they didn't get into attack mode again. "Incidentally, the cursed dildo also exists in his world. It was created… in his likeness." The god turned to him, his expression one of betrayal and embarrassment. Dean shrugged.

"You're a dick," the god decided but then he heaved a sigh and stepped towards the table where the offending item was sitting in its curse box.

"I don't understand," Sam started, "how can this exist here too? Because as far as I know Dean didn't use to be a pagan god in his past life or something!" He looked towards Cas. "Right?"

"No. Your and Dean's souls haven't been recycled as far as I know. It's very peculiar that this object can still exist here. But it has happened before," Castiel explained, stepping closer to the god to study the object too. Dean observed how the god tensed slightly when Cas was close to him and how he stared at Cas with wide eyes and a wary expression. "Most universes overlap in some aspect, allowing us angels to travel through them. Mostly this overlap comes together in unassuming landmarks or objects. The only way to be able to travel through them is to know that they can be activated as portals. Unless you're an angel of course, because we can create doors ourselves."

"So they're like port keys," Sam summarized and Castiel frowned at him. Sam waved his hand at him. "Never mind." He pointed at the cursed dick. "So this is one of the portals into a different universe." He looked at the god, childlike wonder on his face. "Y-your universe." The god nodded. "That's quite something."

"When Dean touched the object," Mary started, looking up at her son with a stern expression, "which he obviously shouldn't have." Dean shrugged helplessly. "He was transported into your world. Did the same object lead you back home?"

"No… Actually I found the object in his world and it didn't work," Dean admitted. He thought it best not to confess just where he found it.

"But that thing definitely has magic of its own," god Dean grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Because no matter how I try to hide it, it always comes back. I assumed that it was one of my brother's childish pranks, but now I'm not so sure."

"I wouldn't do that," Sam defended himself, but when both Deans looked at him, he shrugged. "At least not more than once."

"How did you come back?" Cas asked and god Dean almost jumped. Cas squinted at him, suspicious of his exaggerated reaction to a simple question.

"There's a guest in my pantheon who can travel through dimensions. He acts as Trickster and has sent me or Sam into all kind of bizarre worlds before," the god explained and Sam heaved a sigh.

"Gabriel," he accurately guessed.

"That means angels exist in your universe," Castiel spoke up, his eyebrows lowered.

"Yeah, but you're not one of them," the god answered defensively. "It is very disconcerting to see you like this." The god looked at Cas, but he didn't seem to focus on his human shape. "It's like your universe made a mistake." That apparently ruffled Castiel's feathers, because he glared at Dean, stepping up to him, but the god didn't back down.

"It has not made a mistake. I am an angel," Cas said, his a voice deep and dangerous growl.

"Yes, but your core burns differently. You are not like other angels," the god decided, then he turned towards the other humans in the room, apparently not interesting in continuing the conversation.

"I think if you store away the box, you will have no further issues with the object. It's not dangerous," he said. "Dean. I think we have a task?"

"What?" Sam spoke up when Dean just nodded. "What's going on?" The god smiled, then he reached out to grab Castiel's sleeve, before he also grabbed a hold of Dean. And then there was fire and warmth and the next moment they stood in the main hall of the Bunker.

* * *

 

Dean cursed, which got drowned out by the deep laughter of the god.

"A little warning next time?!" Dean spat, though the god was clearly not paying attention, instead looking around the room, wandering off on his own. "How did you even know where to go?"

"I'm a god of homes, I just followed the call," the god answered like it was obvious. Dean rolled his eyes, then he looked towards Cas, finding the angel obviously rattled and almost a little bit green around the gills.

"I suppose now I know how you felt when I flew with you," Cas said, slowly rising out of his hunched over position. He gave himself a shake and then he looked towards where the god was now rummaging through the library. Then Castiel looked at Dean and Dean found himself frozen. They were alone together, finally, and the silence stretched uncomfortably thick between them.

"Uh, hi, I suppose."

"Hello," Castiel replied tensely, not looking away from him. "Why has the pagan brought us here?"

"He might be able to fix the whole cosmic consequences bullshit," Dean said and Castiel narrowed his eyes.

"There is nothing to fix. There would have been nothing to fix if you had-" Castiel started but Dean interrupted him with an incredulous huff.

"What? Put my hopes on the devil baby? Like you?" he asked and Castiel opened his mouth. But Dean lifted both his hands. "No, no no no," he stopped him and Castiel frowned. Dean laughed humorlessly. "I understand that you had no choice to believe in him when he manipulated you, but even now? You're still pissed that we averted a catastrophe?!"

"I'm 'pissed' that you knocked me unconscious!" Castiel told him, raising his voice and taking a step closer to Dean. He was in his heavenly wrath mode and while Dean still found this damn fucking scary, he didn't back down. He was right here. He had done the right thing! "I'm 'pissed' that you trapped me in a ring of holy fire for over a week."

"I-"

"Let me finish," Castiel growled out and Dean lifted his hands in surrender. "I'm 'pissed' that you didn't trust me enough to talk to me about it before you decided that I had to be treated like a threat to your plan."

"Talk to you, Cas? _Trust_ you?" Dean answered incredulously. "How? How am I supposed to do either if you always shut me out? Instead of talking to me about Heaven's stupid plan, you go dark. You don't talk to me and the first chance you get you steal the Colt and disappear!" Castiel lowered his head at that, the shame written on his face even though he still looked angry and hurt. "I want to trust you, Cas. There's nothing I'd rather do than just trust you, but you haven't exactly given me a lot to work with here, Cas. And look, I get it." Castiel looked up at him again and Dean tried to reign back his own hurt. "You've been beaten down a lot. You haven't had a stellar year or a good track record with happiness lately."

"Dean…"

"But you don't have to pressure yourself on my account. I don't need a win from you, man. What I need," Dean shook his head. "No. What I want, Cas, is for you to be around. Okay? For us to solve problems _together_." Castiel didn't reply and Dean heaved a sigh, then he rubbed his yes. "Look, man… I know I was a dick to you. I mess up a lot. But I know that we can work it out if you just… I don't know. Stay. Talk."

"You really were a dick," Castiel muttered, but a small smile pulled at his lips. He closed his eyes and shook his head, then he looked up at Dean. "It's been difficult trying to redeem myself for…" Castiel lifted his arms and then let them drop back to his sides. "Everything. And I thought I had a shot, a _real_ shot. With that child."

"This is a nice place," god Dean spoke up, startling both Dean and Castiel. He was coming down the steps from the library, a grin on his face.

"Dude, don't just wander off!" Dean accused but the god grinned at him.

"I had to give you some time to talk," he said and Dean grumbled at that. The god crossed his arms over his chest. "I do want to get back to my beloved, so we should get started on the actual issue." He tilted his head to the side, a grin on his lips. "Unless you need a bit of help with issues of fertility?"

"Shut up," Dean snapped uncomfortably, though Castiel had obviously another reason to frown.

"Beloved?" he asked and Dean saw the spark of hurt in his expression, that also made Dean's chest clench uncomfortably. Castiel's whispered confession rang through his ears.

"Don't worry. My heart belongs only to you," god Dean assured Cas, "well… a different you. But that guy over there-"

"Dude," Dean hissed, suddenly feeling panicked and the god eyed him with a questioning look. Castiel turned his eyes away from the god to Dean, looking vulnerable. But also hopeful.

"Right." The other Dean said after the silence had stretched on for far too long. "Then let's see that blood magic." He turned to look at Dean. "Do you have an altar by chance?"

* * *

 

Dean wanted to make a dozen jokes about Cas lying on their make shift altar in the dungeon.

"It would have been better with a fireplace," the god lamented, as he looked down at Cas, one hand to his mouth and a critical expression on face.

"Welcome to the future where we have electricity," Dean said with a snort.

"I don't like it," the god grumbled.

"Though luck, buddy," Dean said and looked down at Cas. "You alright down there?"

"Yes," Cas said, lying still even though his shirt was opened, exposing his chest. Though Dean assumed that the angel had no particular sense of modesty.

"Alright," the god said, then he put his palm on Castiel's chest, gently pressing down. "Blood magic is in theory nothing more than a contract between a human and a supernatural entity with particular rules."

"Yeah, like a demon deal," Dean muttered and the god scrunched up his nose.

"Kind of I suppose? It seems slightly excessive to perform blood magic just for an escape. Blood is one of the most potent sacrifices," the god said, closing his eyes. Dean wondered if he was supposed to be quiet now. He had no idea what the guy was doing. Feeling up Cas' Grace? Listening to his heartbeat?

"The reaper didn’t just help them escape. She temporarily killed them, so that the guards would release them from the cells to the morgue. They had a better chance of escape from there," Castiel explained, clearly not caring whether the god had to work in silence of not. God Dean cracked his eyes open at that, first looking down at Cas and then quirking his eyebrow at Dean.

"It was a stupid plan," Cas added unhelpfully and Dean fought the urge to roll his. But the god looked over his shoulder to study Dean as well. His dark eyes were hard to read and his expression was carefully neutral. Without a word he looked back down at Castiel who was still stretched out on the table, not looking any stiffer than he usually did.

"I must agree," the god's verdict finally came. And Dean _knew_ , he knew in hindsight that it had been stupid, but there was no changing it now. "Humans can be reckless and I know myself well enough to know that I too have agreed to one or two stupid plans in my lifetime." The god placed his hand in the center of Castiel's chest. "But this was faithless, of both you and Sam."

Of all the things Dean had expected to hear from him, faithless had certainly not featured.

"Were people not coming for you? Have you so little faith in the abilities of your allies?" the god asked and what got to Dean more than the mildly disappointed look he got from the deity, was the sudden sadness and guilt that took a hold of Cas' expression. And he yearned to say something to Cas, to soothe that pain he saw in him, but he felt his tongue tied yet again, the words painfully stuck inside his chest.

"You should mind your own business!" Dean spat out instead. The god lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, so you mean me to leave and not tend to your business?" he asked, waving his hand over Cas. Dean tensed and decided to hold his damn mouth. He guessed that the god wasn't cruel and wouldn't actually leave, but what did Dean know? The dude was a pagan god and Deans' track record with pagan gods wasn't stellar. Also, he still seemed somewhat uncomfortable in the presence of Cas.

"Six weeks in prison," Cas said and Dean looked down at him. "It's nothing compared to what you've suffered in Hell. I don't understand how you could possibly say that six weeks of prison were worse than the torture you had to endure."

"I don't get it either, okay!" Dean spat tensely. "That's just how my stupid human brain works! And you know I'm not the most steadfast of people. I'm weak, Cas!" Cas opened his mouth, probably to argue knowing him, but Dean wasn't done: "I wanted out in Hell and I broke long before dad did. And I didn't care what it meant for my soul or for other people. I had to get off that rack. Just how I had to get out of that cell! Billie was my only shot. It's not my fault that she overcharged for it!" Cas sat up at once, making the god take his hand off him and back off.

"You should have refused! If you hadn't made this deal then we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"Oh, as if you've never made a stupid deal in your life before!" Dean argued back.

"Not because I wanted to save myself!"

"If you continue fighting like that then my power is going to diminish and you'll be stuck with that cosmic target on whatever it is that counts as your soul," god Dean calmly interjected, bringing down an almost shocked silence into the dungeon. Dean glanced at Castiel, finding the angel looking up at him with a contrite expression.

"Tell me there's something you can do," Dean said and finally tore his eyes away from Cas to stare at the god. The god huffed, almost as if he were offended by the suggestion that he couldn't. Maybe Dean should take comfort in this cockiness.

"I'm a god, I know a thing or two about blood pacts," he said and then stepped closer to the table again, where Cas was still sitting up, incredibly tense. It only took one silent look from the god for Cas to lie back down without complaint. Dean felt an irritating spark of jealousy.

"Yeah, yeah. Quit bragging," he muttered.

"It's not something I would brag about. I don't like blood magic at all," the god said, a shadow passing over his face. "The creature you made a blood pact with is owed a debt. It's magic, more than logic. A natural, cosmic pull and shove that demands balance."

"Yeah, we've dealt with cosmic balance before. Almost got all of creation snuffed out," Dean muttered and the god looked up at him, a hint of alarm on his face. Dean waved at him.

"Nothing to worry about, I fixed it," he said casually and the god snorted at that.

"Your universe must be cruel and dark if the weight of its continued existence rests on the delicate shoulders of a human," the god told him, not without compassion. "It's not an easy burden you've been given."

"Yeah, but it's easier to bear if I've got my family around. So would you please get to fixing up Cas?" Dean asked, meeting Cas' eyes for just long enough to see the genuine surprise melt into something softer. Dean coughed and turned away, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"I will do my best," the god said with humor in his voice. "You were warned against cosmic consequences happening if the blood pact wasn't honored. The power of the blood magic isn't being channeled by anyone right now and since Cas was the one who prevented it, magic is now building up around Cas, uncontrollably." The god made a vague gesture around Cas. "I can see it, like the air distorted by heat. It's flickering and crackling around you, its hunger growing."

"Alright, what can we do about it?" Dean asked while Castiel himself remained silent, his expression almost solemn as if he had made peace with it. "How long do we have until this blows up in Cas' face?"

"I'm not a companion of death so I can't read it all that accurately," the god said and his eyes flickered all around Cas. "But he's running out of time. It will consume him before Midsummer." He sighed. "It would be sad for you to miss the festivities."

"I don't celebrate," Castiel said at the same time as Dean shouted: "he _won't_ miss the festivities!" Dean and Cas looked at each other and the god started to chuckle softly.

"What can you do?" Dean asked him.

"There are multiple ways of going about solving this situation," the god said and Dean instantly relaxed. "It would require a bit of work but if I were to revive Billie then she'd be able to channel the magic of the blood pact again. But the chances are that she would simply choose to still demand her sacrifice and renegotiation might be difficult since the magic was a life for a life."

"Yeah, pass on that one, it's too risky," Dean said at once. "Another idea?" The god didn't seem bothered at all by Dean's rejection.

"Cas could sacrifice something of equal value as a Winchester's life. For example his Grace."

"No, that won't work," Cas said, sitting up now. "It's not just a Winchester's life that Billie wanted. She wanted to toss them into the empty. It would effectively remove Dean's soul from this universe. My Grace can't compete with the power of Dean's soul. And neither does it come close in value."

"It's not about the power, it's about the sacrifice," the god remined him but Castiel shook his head.

"That's your view as a pagan god. But it's not how a reaper thinks," he told him and the god shrugged.

"Well, then there's suggestion number three. My final suggestion," he said and he looked at them both. "My preferred one as well."

"Then why not lead with that right away?" Dean grumbled, still feeling thrown off a bit by the discussion concerning his soul.

"Because if it were me and _my_ Cas, I would resist it," the god said, far too cheerful for the accompanying words. Dean frowned at him, not liking this.

"What would you have us do?" Castiel asked.

"We have to bring about the consequences right now, while I am here to direct them," the god told him. Dean didn't like the look on Castiel's face upon hearing the god's words. Grim determination was not what Dean wanted to see.

"What the hell do you mean?" Dean barked and tensed the moment the god pulled a dagger seemingly out of nowhere. Its dark metal looked like it had been recently pulled out of fire, but Dean didn't doubt that it was sharp. There was no time to think this through so he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the god's head. "Put that down!"

It was hardly surprising that the god didn't react at all to the threat.

"If you sacrifice Castiel to me, then the blood pact will be soothed. A life will have been paid," god Dean explained patiently, keeping the dagger down at his thigh.

"What's the point in that then? Cas is going to die either way!"

"I'm not just any run of the mill god, my friend," the god said with an amused huff. "I am a god of life, not one of selfish greed. I won't keep the life that has been sacrificed to me. When empowered by a sacrifice I am able to revive people. I can return Cas' life to him right away."

"But I don't know where I will go after death. Maybe there's no chance for you to even pull me back," Castiel argued.

"I'm not going to let go of you, Cas," the god soothed him gently but Dean didn't feel confident at all.

"Maybe you've dealt with human sacrifices before, but Cas is an angel! What makes you think that you can even handle his Grace?" Dean challenged. To his surprise the god started laughing.

"I can handle it," he assured Dean who was left to stare at both Cas and the god. Cas sent him a look that Dean wasn't able to decipher with how quickly thoughts seem to circle in his brain, then Cas sat up. He produced his angel blade and held it out to the god who studied it calmly.

"That dagger won't kill me," Cas said and the god nodded at this, but didn't take the blade when Cas held it out to him.

"I can't be the one to take your life," he said and then he looked over his shoulder at Dean. Dean stared at the god and then at Cas. The angel seemed to hesitate, but then he slowly turned his blade so that he was offering it to Dean.

The realization of what the two of them planned to happen in this wretched dungeon froze Dean. He could feel his heartbeat hammering in his ears, throbbing violently through him.

"No." Dean managed to force out, then he turned on his heels and rushed out of the dungeon and through the corridor. There was nothing but storage down here, all dusty and dark. Oppressive.

Dean circled the storage room he found himself in like a tiger in a cage, the light bulb overhead humming loudly and flickering a couple of times as it warmed up. This room still hadn't been cleaned up after the Brits' raid.

Freaking bastards, tainting his home. Like the Stynes before them. And now _this_?

"Dean…"

"I'm not gonna do it, Cas. No way," Dean said, not even looking up to the doorframe. He put his hands on the wooden shelf in front of him, hanging his head and trying to breathe.

"You don't have to. I can do it myself," Cas said, his voice gentle, but firm, sending a hollow echo through the storage room. Dean clawed at the wood, feeling his nails dig into it. "The other you is currently turning the dungeon into an altar. I suppose I…" Dean heard Castiel step across the threshold and into the room. "I wanted to say good bye. Just in case."

Dean huffed a humorless laugh, but he felt the burn in his eyes.

"Please, Dean…" Dean turned around, finding Cas just an arm's length away. The moment Dean looked at him, Castiel walked up to him to wrap Dean in a hug. Dean returned it, clinging to Cas.

"I'm so sorry," Dean managed to say, forcing the words past the pain that wanted to cut off his air.

"I know," Cas answered gently. Dean didn't want to let him go, but he knew he had to. He let his hands linger on Castiel's arms until finally he only held on to his hand.

"Don't you want to say good bye to Sam too? Just in case?" Dean asked but Cas shook his head.

"I did say good bye to all of you not too long ago," he said, "and I don't need someone else to try to talk me out of this."

"You really gotta stop getting into such trouble," Dean told him and Castiel smiled.

"That's unlikely, considering you're not stopping getting into trouble either," he said and Dean supposed this was true. They looked at each other silently and Dean could fool himself into thinking that this moment was peaceful. Until Cas averted his eyes and made to turn away. "I should do this now."

"Cas," Dean stopped him, holding on to Cas' hand. Cas looked down at their joined hands and then up at Dean. His expression went from calm to vulnerable almost at once. It was the same look Cas had given him that time in the barn with Ramiel. When he had bled all over the floor and whispered out that confession. And Dean hadn't said anything. He would have to now.

"I love you too, Cas. Just… I want you to know. So you've got more reasons to come back, alright?" Dean said. "We'll figure out the rest once you've got your head out of the cosmic noose."

"Yes," Castiel managed to say, clearly overwhelmed, but quickly collecting himself. "Yes."

And that was it. Dean wished he had more time, more words. _Better_ words because there was so much more that he should be telling Cas.

Dean followed Cas, silently, as if he was walking through the Bunker in a dream. The dungeon was dark, the desk covered with markings that looked dark red, like blood. The bowl they used for summonings was alight with a low fire.

Dean felt a mix of awe and fear as he looked at the god standing behind the desk on which Cas was to sacrifice himself. He was partially cast into shadows, looking huge even without his coat. His green eyes gleamed brightly. He didn't say anything. He might as well have been nothing but an etching on a standing stone.

Castiel pulled out his angel blade but he hesitated.

"Maybe it's best if you wait outside," Castiel said, looking towards Dean. Dean shook his head. "My Grace will explode and my wings will burn to ash. You could be hurt."

"You deserve that I watch," Dean said stubbornly even though he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"You don’t need to torture yourself," Castiel admonished, but then his stern face fell. "I would prefer for you not to have you see me implode," he confessed. Dean hesitated, but then he looked up towards the god. It was warming up in the dungeon, the fragrance of herbs and burning wood filling the small room. The god was still unmoving, looking at them steadily, motionlessly. His eyes seemed to pierce right into Dean's very soul. It was starting to make Dean uncomfortable.

"I trust him," Castiel assured Dean, causing him to look back down towards Cas. "And we've done worse on less hope." Dean heaved a sigh. He reached out, placing his hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"Don't disappear on me," he said, giving Castiel's shoulder a squeeze. Castiel looked up at him without saying anything and then Dean forced himself to let go. He took a step away from Cas, then another, until he was at the door. He saw Cas kneel down in front of the make shift altar. The last thing Dean saw was the glint of the angel blade as Castiel lifted it up, presenting it to the god before him.

The doors closed with a screech of the hinges and a loud metallic clank. He heard nothing about what was going on behind those doors. He retreated until his back hit the opposite wall, feeling cold after the warm room.

"Please, if you can hear me. Bring him back to me," Dean whispered.

Bright blue light gleamed through the tiny crack between the door and the floor. Dean put his hands over his ears, blocking out the deafening screech that followed. Everything seemed to tremble around Dean, or maybe he was shaking. A dreadful silence fell and the scent of ash filled Dean's nose.

Heart beating like a roar in his ears, he pulled open the door and for a second, he could see nothing. All light was gone from the room and something seemed to suck out even the little light that shone in from the corridor.

"What's…" He saw the movement then and a moment later the god opened his eyes, sending an almost too bright blue light towards Dean.

"I'm holding on to him," he said, his voice distorted by a high-pitched frequency that Dean knew from angels' true voice. A faint blue glow shone out of his mouth as he spoke. The unnatural darkness in the room retreated, like a wave pulling away from shore. Gradually it revealed the figure of Cas lying on the floor. Dean slowly approached, almost stumbling when he saw the ashy imprints of Castiel's wings on the ground. He sunk to his knees and carefully pulled him into his arms.

This wasn't the first time Dean saw Cas dead, but it was far from easy to handle. There was no blood on Castiel's face, but the angel blade was driven into his chest, to the hilt.

"Shit…," Dean said, his hands hovering over the blade uselessly, until he finally grabbed the hilt and pulled it out. He looked at the blade, then he let it clatter to the floor and bent over Cas, to cradle him close. "Cas…!"

Dean felt the god approach, radiating heat and power. He lowered himself to his knees, then he put his hand over the fatal wound. His eyes were still glowing blue and then small tendrils of power, looking like glittering smoke, wrapped around the god's arm, reaching down until they met Castiel's chest.

"Have no fear," the god said gently, not lifting his eyes off the task, but Dean felt himself relax slightly, watching the magic happen. He hoped with all his heart that it worked, praying in his mind to whoever was listening.

Finally, the smoke evaporated and the god closed his eyes. Once the blue light disappeared underneath his lashes Castiel opened his eyes. And took a deep breath.

"Cas!" Dean shouted in relief. Cas looked up at Dean, grimacing at first, and then tried to sit up. Dean acted at once, helping Cas up, but not wanting him to stand. The guy looked shaken up.

"Did it work?" Cas asked, his voice rough. Dean looked at him, then he lifted his head to look at the god, hoping that he would be able to give an answer.

"Yes," the god told him with an encouraging smile. Dean sighed in relief, pulling Cas close into a hug. He heard the god rise to his feet. "I'm not an expert when it gets to angels," he said and Dean watched him look at something on the floor, then at the walls. Tracking his eyes, Dean realized that he was surveying the imprint of Castiel's wings. "But I don't think that wings are supposed to look like this. And there were some… lets call them holes in Castiel's Grace."

"Yeah, he's been through a bit," Dean muttered and looked at Cas who gave Dean a mirthless huff.

"Well, I fixed it," the god said with a grin and both Dean and Cas stared at him.

"Impossible," Castiel said and started moving out of Dean's grasp. He rose to his feet immediately and stared at the god.

"Don't look at me like that, feathers," the god said with a laugh, snapping his fingers which sparked flames. The light went back on in the dungeon and Dean winced when he saw the wing imprints in full light. The room had been too small for Castiel's wings, making the ashy imprints bend awkwardly. "I'm naturally powerful but any sacrifice makes my creative powers spike immeasurably. And I had your Grace, as well as the excess power of the blood pact at my disposal." Dean stared at him and his smug expression, then he looked towards Cas who was now staring at his hands as if he was seeing them for the first time. His expression when he looked at Dean was… shocked. Dean knew what Cas was up to a second before it happened.

"No, Ca-" but it was too late. Cas disappeared with a flutter of wings and a mighty gust of wind that almost sent Dean to the floor.

"Damn! The second he gets back his wings, he disappears on me!" Dean shouted and looked towards the god who was brushing down his flannel shirt. He wanted to snap at him for aiding Cas' disappearance, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had saved Cas after all.

"Was he really dead…?" The god stopped his fussing at once and looked up, compassion and understanding written over his face.

"The very thought of Cas dying makes me want to weep, so I understand how distraught you must be right now," he said and Dean felt that there was no use to deflect. No need to lie to himself.

"I've seen Cas die… too many times," Dean told him. "And we've had far too many close calls… I don't want that anymore. I just want him and Sam and Mom to be safe for once."

"I understand. Is there any evil ailing you that you need help with?" the god asked, following Dean's lead when he decided that he had seen enough of this dungeon for a long time. Maybe he could convince Sam to clean because he doubted he'd set foot in here for a long time. Dean pondered the god's question when they made their way into the kitchen. He wasn't sure why he was leading him here, but now that he was here a cup of coffee seemed like a good idea.

The god graciously accepted the cup and took a sip.

"You know, Gabriel sent me into a different universe as a prank once. I had to make coffees all day for harassed people who shouted at me when I got something wrong. Very undignified." Dean almost chocked on his mouthful of coffee.

"Gabriel turned you… into a barista as a prank?" Dean asked once he recovered. "How does he even know what a barista is? Isn't he a 13th century dude just like you?"

"He's an angel. I assume linear time means nothing to him," the god grumbled in displeasure.

"If it's any consolation, he sent me and Sam into all kinds of crappy alternate realities too… Grade A asshole," Dean muttered. "But I suppose he has his moments. You probably wouldn't keep him around if he didn't." The god nodded thoughtfully.

Dean's phone rang and Dean pulled it out. He noticed that he had multiple missed calls and texts. How did that happen…? The caller ID showed Sam's name.

"Hey!" Dean said after picking up.

"Dean! Jesus! Are you alright?!"

"Yes. Everything's alright. The firecracker version of me transported us to the Bunker. We're alright. Well… I don't know about Cas."

"What do you mean, you don't know about Cas?" Sam asked, his tone clearly worried. Dean could hear the familiar slam of the Impala's doors and then the motor roaring to life. He and mom must be on their way here then.

"Dean fixed his wings and Cas just took off. Maybe five minutes ago," Dean said and then he rubbed his face. "I hope he's not getting himself into any fresh trouble."

"No, no. He's alright," the god spoke up, twirling his spoon in his cup, stirring in more sugar and cream.

"How do you know?" Dean wondered and the god tapped his chest.

"There's still a bit of his Grace in me. He's safe… Serene."

"You kept a part of his Grace? That's not creepy at all, dude."

"Hey, it wasn't my choice. I don't know why angels leave behind residue. But the Grace seems to be quite comfortable inside me."

"Dude, don't say such things. It's weird," Dean complained, which made the god raise an eyebrow and Sam snort. Ah, Sam. He had almost forgotten him.

"So everything's alright?" Sam wondered and Dean didn't know how to answer. He was still pretty shaken up about Cas' temporary death, but apart from that? Yeah. He guessed so.

"Yes. You're on your way here?"

"Mom's just wrapping up the case but I'm headed towards the Bunker," Sam explained. "I'll see you there?"

"Yeah. Bye," Dean said and ended the call. He looked at the phone. He let the screen go black, but then he unlocked it and opened up his mostly one-sided text messages with Cas. What did he even want to say to him…?

"Come home soon," he typed after a long time and sent it before he could chicken out. He put the phone away and then he looked at the god, happily sipping his coffee. He looked weirdly at ease sitting in Dean's kitchen. And he definitely didn't look like someone who just basically saved Dean's world. Or Cas. Which… same thing. Dean wrapped his hands around his own cup, looking down into it. Maybe the lack of fanfare or glory was the lot of people like him. Every time Dean saved the world, the sun would still rise all the same and there was nobody to celebrate the world's unknown heroes. And Dean was alright with that. It was weird being on the other side, seeing _himself_ have a calm, unheroic moment, despite all he just did for someone else. It filled Dean with an unexpected sense of awe and gratitude. To feel what the people they saved might feel. For this god it was just another day, but for Dean something had changed monumentally.

"So?" the god asked, pulling Dean out of his weird, kinda embarrassing, emotional bubble. Dean looked at him blankly. "You have the powers of a god at your disposal. Are there any monsters that need slaying?"

"Oh…" Dean muttered. There would always be monsters and tragedies and they would be dealt with by humans, as they always have been. What else was out there, lurking in the unknown darks? Lucifer was dead, the Nephilim would be born human, the British Men of Letters had been defeated and the Darkness was at peace.

"Well, the worst thing on my plate right now is probably that Mom's struggling a bit," he said and the god tilted his head at him. "Uh… she's been dead for over 30 years. The world's a different place, me and Sam are grown up and dad is gone. But all immediate dangers have been averted…"

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother, it must have been hard growing up without her guidance," the god said, the emotion in his voice genuine.

"Your mom's alive?" Dean wondered. "Wait, do you even have a mom? Or did you just like… jump out of a fire or something?"

"No, I was made the old-fashioned way," the god told him with a wink. "And both of my parents are alive."

"That's good," Dean said and the god nodded. "I don't think you can help mom with her baggage, but now that I think of it one prince of hell is still out there. Asmodeus," he continued. "You don't happen to have a weapon that can kill a prince of hell? Just in case?"

"I don't know what a prince of hell is. My dealings with the Christian underworld have been minimal," the god said, somewhat apologetic. Dean had to laugh at that.

"Really? No Crowley pestering you?" The god shrugged, shaking his head with a small, confused smile. "That must be nice." He finished his coffee, putting it down with a loud clank afterwards. "A prince of hell is a yellow eyed demon, hand-picked by Lucifer." Dean noticed how the god's dark eyes widened for a moment only to narrow again. So apparently he had heard of those fuckers before. The god reached into his coat and pulled out his dagger. He put it on the table for Dean to study.

"This blade can kill all demons and most other monsters," the god explained and pushed it forwards for Dean to take. It was pretty simple looking for something that powerful. Like Ruby's knife it had symbols etched into the hilt and some into the dark blade itself. "It doesn't kill angels though, they're of a different material and magic."

"Yeah, we've got weapons for them," Dean said and then he looked up from the blade. "Are you sure about giving this to me?"

"I'll just get Hephaistos to make another one for me," the god said with a carefree shrug.

"You're buddies with many gods, huh?"

"Not necessarily, but it's nice to have a common enemy and a common friend," the god said with a wink and when Dean just looked at him blankly he elaborated: "Crusading Christians and good drink." Dean had to laugh.

"I feel kinda bad for your Cas."

"Ach, don't. Humans have to have their purposes in life and their choices. Since he knows that the whole conversion attempt is a losing battle, I've chosen to believe that he stays because of my fantastic skills as a lover." The god grinned cheekily and then he leant closer, eying Dean conspiratorially. "I suppose the reason Cas keeps flying away from you is because you haven't really fucked him into staying yet."

"Jesus Christ! Don't say stuff like that!!" Dean shrieked, rather undignified, that he could admit to himself. The god laughed. Dean glared at him, then he huffed. "I'm not a freaking fertility god like you."

"No, maybe not," the god said with a grin, then he shrugged. He reached over the table and patted Dean's shoulder. "You'll get there, my friend. Having Castiel by my side has improved my life and I'm sure you will find pleasure and peace in him." God Dean withdrew his hand and leant back slightly, with a pensive expression. "Even if he is an angel."

"What's your Cas like, then?" Dean wondered. "It's weird to imagine having the tables turned, with Cas being mortal and me being a supernatural creature."

"I've loved humans before," the god said, "but it's usually been fleeting. The way I love Cas is something I've never experienced before. I don't know what it is about him but his soul… It's radiant. It's warm, compassionate, kind. Full of love. It's like there's something inside of me that's drawn to him. That feeling has been there from the very start," he explained gently and smiled at Dean. His expression was open, soft, something that Dean hadn't seen on himself before. The god folded his hands on the table. "Maybe it's the Fates' doing, but I am grateful that Cas is in my life."

"Yeah…," Dean said, though he knew that while destiny had a lot to do with how they met, it had nothing to do with how they developed.

"Besides," the god continued and Dean looked up to meet his mischievous grin. "He's really hot and I know how to appreciate such a fine ass."

Dean stared at him.

"Dude…"

"Your Cas looks slightly different, but I'm sure that he's got a nice ass under that coat too. You'll see."

"What makes you think that I want to see Cas' ass?" Dean retorted quickly, though without heat. There was no point in arguing with himself about this.

"You'd be a fool not to, believe me," the god assured him. Dean rolled his eyes, but then he stared down at his fingers on the table.

"Yeah well… There's no point in wondering about it if Cas isn't coming back."

"He will," the god said with such conviction that it was hard to not believe him.

* * *

When the door to the Bunker opened with the loud shriek of hinges, it wasn't Cas who returned to him, but Sam and Mary.

Dean was back to staring at his phone, Cas unresponsive. This morning he'd felt anger and guilt but now he just felt abandoned.

While he tried to attend to his own feelings in peace, keeping a glass of whiskey in his hand, his godly counterpart did all the talking for him. He was cheerful and open, both with Sam and Mom, but Dean felt withdrawn. A stranger here, on uneven footing with pretty much everyone. Mom sometimes shot him worried looks, but was quickly pulled back into the conversation with the god whenever Sam seemed to think of another thing to ask him.

"It's peculiar to see you so talk active," Sam said with a laugh, "usually you only babble like that when you're very excited."

"But I am very excited," the god answered, his voice loud. He grinned down at the table for a moment, where print outs of the pics Dean had snapped were spread.  "And I don't know what you're talking about anyway, Sam. I am a delight all the time!" Dean didn't look up from the whiskey he still hadn't touched. He could only guess what face Sam made. Hey, at least his counterpart had his back. Because he _was_ a delight. When he wasn't being left behind or betrayed by pretty much everyone he loved. Sadly, that happened too often, so excuse him if he was moping.

It wasn't the hinges of the door that made Dean look up, but the loud flapping of wings and a gust of air that sent Sam's notes scattering.

And Cas was there, his hair ruffled and his expression elated. He stood on the other side of Dean's table, smiling at him. Dean couldn't quite conceal his surprise, nor his relief.

"You're back?"

"Of course I'm back," Castiel told him gently. The god got up from his chair, clapping his hands.

"So, I suppose this is my cue to return. I should not keep my family waiting any longer," he said with a happy smile. He looked at Cas and studied him. "A fully powered angel can surely take me back to my world in case Gabriel doesn't show up anytime soon." Castiel nodded and Dean wanted to protest. Cas just got back here and now he would fly off again? But a second later Gabriel appeared in their midst holding what looked like a box of donuts, chewing one thoughtfully. There was blood on his sleeve. Dean didn't think it wise to ask about it.

"I heard my name," he said and then he pointed the donut towards the god. "You good to go?"

"Yes," the god answered and Gabriel shoved the rest of his donut into his mouth, shaking his hand even though it didn't really clear it off the powdered sugar.

"Good because I'm about ready to leave as well. This time line is pretty weird," he said and then proceeded to lick his fingers, giving the god time to say good-bye.

"Well, you know how to reach me, if you ever feel like visiting," the god said and then he looked at Dean. "If you ever want to try my fabled mead," he added with a wink.

"Sure, that'd be great," Sam said and Mary agreed. Dean reached out his hand, holding it out to the god, who looked at him with a bit of confusion but without losing his friendly smile.

"Thank you, truly," Dean said and the god took his hand to shake it, "for all you did."

"Helping families is my job. It's a gift that I take seriously," he said and then his gaze softened. "As I know you do too. And I know you do a good job," Dean felt his cheeks heat up and he managed to nod. And then suddenly, the god pulled him into a hug, that was warm and comforting. So sue him if he held on a bit longer to that warmth than necessary. The god didn't seem to mind at all.

"Okie dokie," Gabriel said when Dean stepped away from the god, and then without further ado they were gone.

"I liked him, he was sweet," Mary decided.

"He was pretty cool," Sam agreed and then he looked to Dean, who was back to staring at Cas as if blinking might make him disappear too. "It's a shame that Dean's not a god in this world either." That got Dean's attention. He snorted.

"I'm a hunter, I have my own way of helping families. And that's good enough," he said.

"Yes," Castiel agreed and when Dean looked at him, Cas was smiling at him fondly. "This world needs you just the way you are," he said and it wasn't just Dean's imagination that Cas' cheeks were slightly rose tinted. Before Dean's face could get too embarrassingly dopey, Cas turned away to look at Sam and Mary. Dean felt somewhat drunk with feelings, so in a bout of madness he took a hold of Castiel's hand. Castiel gave it a squeeze. "All of you make it a better place."

"Thanks Castiel," Mary told him with a smile, while Sam was trying not to look at Dean holding Cas' hand too obviously. But Dean didn't care. He wasn't going to let go anytime soon.

* * *

 

The heavy wooden box slid into place with a soft sound. Dean clapped his hands, shaking off some dust. They should really dust in here every now and again.

"That was the last item on the list of things those dicks stole," Dean said, taking a step back and admiring the high wooden shelves loaded with boxes. He was only human but he has enough instincts to feel the magic in the air.

"That was the god penis?" Castiel asked, turning away from examining the shelves. He had deemed all the items in here non-lethal in case Dean was careless again and touched stuff.

"Yep," he said and then he pulled something from his belt, studying it in the light. It was the knife Dean had given him. Castiel stepped closer to examine it and Dean was intensely aware of his body heat pressing close to him even though they didn't quite touch. "Cool huh? If Asmodeus ever comes to bother us, this knife will ice him. At least that's what god me thought."

Dean had made a leather sheath for it and put it back inside it. It was better to not let that collect dust in the storage room, but to keep it on him during hunts. He put it back on his belt and then turned to Cas. Cas immediately lifted his eyes to study Dean. It felt nice to have him so close again and even to be the focus of Cas' intense studying.

"How are you doing, Cas? With your full mojo intact? Aren't you dying to fly away?"

"I'm doing great. My wings were broken and constantly in pain before. I'm glad that has changed," Castiel said and Dean felt a pang of guilt and sadness to hear that. He would never forget the image of Castiel's ashy wing imprints in the dungeon and how they'd looked compared to the mighty shadow wings he'd seen before. He lifted his hand to put it on Castiel's shoulder, as a sign of support. "And no," Castiel added. "I'm not dying to fly away." He took the last step separating them and kissed Dean.

Dean was totally on board with that and they kissed slowly, carefully for a while. Until Dean had to pull back, licking his lips with an inquiring expression.

"Hey, how would you feel about me calling you beloved?" he asked and saw a crease appear between Cas' eyebrows.

"I'm not sure," Cas told him and Dean shrugged.

"Me neither. I just wanted to try it, because that's what god me called his Cas."

"But I'm _your_ Cas," Castiel said and it was almost too cheesy for Dean to bear but it still gave him wobbly knees. Cas leant in again, kissing Dean. "Just Cas is fine."

"Yeah," Dean agreed in between kisses. "How about babe?" Castiel huffed against Dean's lips and Dean didn't have to look at him to know that Cas was rolling his eyes. But fondly. Dean could feel the smile in the next kiss.

"Hey you two- woah!" Dean pulled away, so he could see Sam standing in the door, tablet in one hand and wide-eyed. "Were you… kissing?"

"No Sam, he licked the storage dust off my lips," Dean told him flatly. "Of course we were kissing." Sam made a face and shrugged.

"Good," he said and then he lifted his tablet. "Drinks on me later, but for now we've got a case."

"A case?" Castiel asked, alert at once, but he remained close enough for Dean to rub circles into the small of Castiel's back. Sam grinned.

"Yeah. Something's killing people at a… get this," Sam said, "a Wild West LARPing group."

Dean forgave Sam his interruption at once. He clapped Cas on the back, maybe a bit too hard in his excitement.

"What are we waiting for! I'm gonna get my hat," he said and ushered everyone out of the storage room.

 

The door shut and the light switched off.

The curse box with the divine dildo in it glowed softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥ I'd love to hear what you thought! :D
> 
> If you're interested in reading more about god!Dean and missionary!Cas, you can give [this series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/541027) a read or check out [some artwork](http://pagangoddean.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> And if you want to share some thoughts but don't want to do it in public, you can reach me [on tumblr](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/)! ♥


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